Hogwarts Respite
by purpleheart72
Summary: As Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy manage to stay together against all odds, an unexpected obstacle comes up that throws the both of them for a loop...an invitation to Malfoy Manor! **Third in Hogwarts Series!**
1. An Invitation

**And so begins the third in the Hogwarts trilogy—thanks so much for giving this story a try! We're in for a long ride...this one's the longest in the trilogy and a lot of new stuff gets introduced here. I hope you all enjoy and I'd love to hear what you think.**

**Also, I have officially launched my forum which contains some other supplementary Hogwarts series fan fic which I will not be posting here, as well as a lot of my original material including excepts from my Original Novel. If interested, please PM me for membership—I'd love to welcome you aboard.**

**Happy reading!**

Chapter 1—An Invitation

Hermione Granger watched Draco Malfoy closely as she approached his table in the Great Hall. His focus was elsewhere, so this was an unexpected treat for her—she was able to stare at him to her heart's content without being teased by him for it. _"Get your fill, Granger?"_ would be his typical response. _"Can't say that I blame you—and might I commend you for your good taste,"_ he'd add with a smirk. As a result, she made an effort only to stare at him while he was otherwise occupied—his ego was far too large as it was without her giving him constant verification.

As she sat down at the table, she admired the way his white-blond hair fell across his collar and around his face as he studied the paper in his hand. He really was quite beautiful, she reflected. The only person she knew who could make a scowl or a frown look gorgeous, and gorgeous he was as he frowned over whatever it was that he was reading. Before she was able to cover up the fact that she was openly staring at him in admiration, he looked up suddenly and caught her in the act. _Oh bother,_ she thought, as he gave her a knowing smirk.

He quirked an eyebrow at her as she looked down in embarrassment. "No, no," he said with a grin. "Far be it from me to interrupt the study of a work of art. Do go on, Granger," he added as he lifted his hands, palms up, as if he were on display.

Hermione wrinkled her nose at him. "Arrogant toerag," she said primly as she took a sip of pumpkin juice. She could feel her face growing red, so she covered it by asking, "What are you reading that's so distracting?"

His cocksure grin faded. "Oh, nothing," he said as he shoved the piece of parchment under a nearby book.

Now her curiosity was piqued. "Then why hide it?" she asked with a mischievous little smile as she reached for the parchment.

"No!" he exclaimed as he pushed it just out of her reach. Then, "No," in a slightly calmer tone at her look of surprise. "It's no big deal. Just a letter," he mumbled, not quite looking her in the eye.

This was odd. Draco was usually pretty straightforward with any question she ever asked him, sometimes even a little _too_ straightforward. He was often blunt to the point of rudeness, but Hermione knew that he would never openly lie to her. So what was it that was making him so evasive?

"Draco," she said gently. "If it's no big deal, then you can tell me, right?" He looked at her warily. _What was it that was bothering him?_ She continued to gaze up at him entreatingly until she heard him groan under his breath, "Aw, man…" He let out a big sigh and grumbled reluctantly, "It's a letter from my Mum,"

_So?_ she thought to herself, but realized that there must be more to it than there appeared in order to make him act so secretive. She waited patiently for him to explain, but he seemed reluctant to give her any more information. Then, after a few moments of silence, he finally burst out, "It seems that she's found out about us."

"You hadn't told her?" Hermione asked with a slight edge to her voice. She and Draco had been dating for a couple of months now, and Hermione's parents knew about it, Harry knew, Ron knew (although those two still had reservations about the whole thing), and Ginny even had Draco playing Seeker for her Quidditch team, the Silver Stags. And Draco hadn't even bothered to tell his own parents? He had better have a good reason for it…

"I wasn't going to tell her something like that in a _letter_," he replied defensively. "I was waiting until Halloween break to tell her…_and_ my father…in person." He ran a hand through his hair as he glanced back at the letter.

Well, that made sense. She could only imagine how tough _that_ conversation would have been. Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy would not exactly be thrilled to hear that their only son was dating a muggleborn witch. They were a pureblooded wizard family and were very intent on keeping it that way. They had raised Draco to hate muggleborns, or _mudbloods_, as they called them (a much more derogatory term). And hate muggleborns Draco did, right up until the end of the War of the wizarding world, the aftermath of which had gradually opened his eyes. Hermione, being a veteran of the war and having seen just as much, if not more death and carnage as he had, was one of the only students at Hogwarts who Draco had been able to relate to. It enabled him to see past the prejudices that he had been taught all his life and be able to look at the world, and Hermione as a result, in a new way. But just because Draco was able to look at Hermione in a new way, that certainly didn't mean that his parents would be able to.

Hermione knew that his parents were definitely a sore spot as far as Draco was concerned—he rarely talked about them and was recently displaying an odd affectation of growing his hair out, yet continually trimming it up as soon as it started to pass his collar, always mumbling something about the length making him look too much like his father. Once, Hermione had dared to ask him about what it was like growing up at Malfoy Manor, and he just glared at her in silence for a moment, then finally uttered in a caustic tone, "About as fun as Binns would be at a dance party."

Being as Professor Binns was the dead ghost professor who taught, in Draco's opinion, the World's Most Boring Class (History of Magic), Hermione took that as a sign to not ask any more questions about the subject.

But she felt that the issue had to be addressed sooner or later. "So…are you in trouble?" she asked carefully.

Draco grimaced. "In a way."

"What do you mean? What did she say?"

Draco was shaking his head as he stared down at the letter. He finally sighed in exasperation and thrust the letter towards her. "Here," he said, irritated. "Here's your first glimpse into the Manipulative World of Malfoy."

Nonplussed, Hermione picked up the letter and began to read:

_Draco Darling,_

_I hope this letter finds you well and that you are continuing to uphold the proper standard in all of your activities. Always know that this makes us proud._

_I do trust that you are still planning to spend Halloween holiday at home as is tradition, although it has come to our attention that there is now a special young lady in your life. If this factor is possibly influencing whether or not you will be joining us, please extend our invitation so that we may enjoy the pleasure of the company of you both. Perhaps it is time that all was brought out into the open._

_Please send an owl as soon as possible so that we will know when to expect you._

_Mum_

Hermione looked up at Draco, even more confused than before. "Draco, I don't understand. It doesn't say anything about you being in trouble…"

Draco rolled his eyes and took the letter back from her. "That's because you don't speak Malfoyish—it's all about reading between the lines. For example, this part here: '…_continuing to uphold the proper standard in all of your activities. Always know that this makes us proud.' _That means: Don't even _think_ about embarrassing us; you had better be acting like a Malfoy at all times."

"But she didn't seem _upset_ about anything…she even invited me to go home with you for the holiday, Draco. That was actually quite generous of her," Hermione persisted.

Draco snorted. "That's because my perfect mother's above petty emotions such as getting upset. And I'll tell you right now, if you think her inviting you to the Manor is a generous offer, then you're living in a dream world, Granger. The only reason she'd want you there is so that she could put an end to this relationship as soon as she possibly could. She could make you sorry you were ever born with a few cold and well-placed choice words."

Hermione studied him carefully as he scowled down at the letter in his hands. It must not have been easy to grow up as Draco Malfoy, she realized. At that thought, Hermione felt her heart contract in sympathy for him, and she resolved that he should not have to go home and face his parents alone. They were a couple; she wanted to be able to give Draco her support. "That may be so, but I still think I should go with you," she said in a determined tone.

Draco looked at her as if she were a 3-headed harpy. "No way," he finally managed.

"But Draco, I think this is really important…"

He shook his head. "Granger, I'm telling you—"

She interrupted him. "I'm not going to leave you to go at it alone; I want to—"

She was cut off as he pressed his thumb to her lip, effectively silencing her. He was looking at her with an expression that was a combination of exasperation and amusement. "Look here, stubborn Gryffindor, you don't know what you're getting yourself into, and you're not ready to deal with Team Malfoy just yet. Just back off and let me handle it, okay?" He finished his little speech by stroking her lip gently with his thumb, as he began to stare intently at her lips. His fingers came up under her chin as he continued to run his thumb across her lip and his eyes became heated. _Oh no, not that look,_ Hermione thought as she felt herself melt. Sometimes she wished he was just a little less intoxicating to her. Whenever he looked at her like that, he could pretty much distract her from anything.

She gave it one last ditch effort. "But—"

"No." He cut her off with a kiss.

That did it. She was lost.

_Oh my._ Hermione sighed as she responded to the kiss with enthusiasm. The time for thinking was not now, she conceded, but later…well, that would be another story.


	2. Blazing Thoughts

Chapter 2—Blazing Thoughts

After dinner, Draco trudged back to his dormitory, deep in thought. _What rotten timing,_ he groused. _I was really hoping to be able to break the news to Mum at the right time—preferably, on my way out the door—but now that's all shot to hell. _He reached the entrance to the Slytherin common room and irritably pushed his way through the gap in the stone wall.

Blaise Zabini was in the common room, sitting in front of the fireplace as he meticulously trimmed the bristles of his Quidditch broom with a small silver clipper. He looked up briefly as Draco entered, then bent back over his work. "Hey Malfoy," he greeted him as he continued to snip.

"Zabini," Malfoy returned in the same preoccupied tone of voice. He was still aggravated about the letter and not really in the mood to socialize, but then again, neither was Zabini. And Zabini was one of the few Slytherins that Draco still got along with…or anyone else, for that matter. Draco's "social circle", if it could even be called that, consisted of Hermione, Ginny Weasley (he tolerated the Weaselette due to the fact that she knew her Quidditch), a few barely civil acquaintances here and there, an odd sort of prank-mailing war opponent in George Weasley (the latest was a carton of yodeling flobberworms—Draco _still_ couldn't get them to shut up), and Blaise Zabini. His relationship with Zabini consisted primarily of a mutual grudging respect; they weren't the best of mates, but they did exchange nods of approval from time to time.

Oddly enough, Draco found himself sitting in a large overstuffed armchair adjacent to Zabini, who was still trimming away at his broom. Draco took the letter from his mother out of his pocket one more time and scowled at it over the sounds of Zabini's broom-clipper: snip, snip, snip. As Draco reread one of the last lines—_perhaps it is time that all was brought out into the open—_he let out a huge sigh of frustration.

The snipping stopped. "What in the bloody hell are you reading that's making you so cheerful, Malfoy?" Zabini asked in a sardonic tone.

Normally, if anyone else asked him that question, Draco would have told them to shut the hell up and mind their own damn business. However, Zabini actually knew the Malfoy family rather well so he would be one of the few people that would understand Draco's dilemma.

"Letter from my Mum," Draco grumbled as he carelessly threw a leg over the arm of the chair and frowned at the dancing flames in the fireplace.

"Ah." Zabini nodded in understanding. "So what's the latest drama? Your father used the wrong fork at dinner and she wants to make sure that you would never _dare_ do such an uncouth thing?" He smirked at his own statement, as if congratulating himself on his cleverness.

That was the problem with Zabini, Draco reflected. He thought he was a lot cleverer than what he really was. Mainly because most of the people that he hung out with were morons and it made him look like a bloody genius in comparison.

As Draco debated about whether or not to volunteer any more information, Zabini drawled on, "My mother actually had tea over at the Manor the other day…says your house was as…_cheerful_ as ever."

Draco looked at Zabini with suspicion. "Oh?" he said; quirking a platinum blonde eyebrow. "And why is that?"

Zabini shrugged as he once again inspected the bristles of his broom. "She said your father was on some sort of tirade about 'upholding the family honor' or something like that. And your mum was all huffy and going on and on about some 'common filth'."

_Fan-bloody-tastic. So it looks like I'll be spending the entire Halloween holiday being "de-loused" by my parents. I'd rather spend it locked in a goddamned bathroom being serenaded by that infernally annoying Moaning Myrtle…she just doesn't know when to quit._

Zabini brushed off his broom, then took out a small ball of beeswax and started polishing the handle. "So you're probably not looking forward to holiday weekend again, as usual?"

Draco snorted. "Hell, no." He let out a slow breath and looked back at the fire. "They know about Hermione," he said in a flat voice.

He looked away from the fire to see Zabini staring at him open-mouthed. Draco grimaced at him. "Close your mouth, Zabini, you look like you're trying to catch flies," he said crossly.

Zabini abruptly closed his mouth and made an attempt to compose himself. "So, uh…are they going to take you out of school now, or what? No offense, mate, but this is their worst nightmare."

"You think I don't know that?" Draco retorted. "I'm surprised they didn't show up at the bloody school raising all sorts of a ruckus."

"They still might," Zabini warned.

"Nah. They've got something bigger in mind—they _really_ mean business this time." Draco kicked his other leg over the arm of the chair as well and lay back in the seat, staring up at the ceiling. Folding his hands behind his head, he added in a tight voice, "They've invited Hermione to…spend the holiday weekend."

"You're kidding," Zabini gaped in disbelief. "Granger must be terrified at that prospect."

"Believe it or not, the stubborn, foolhardy Gryffindor actually thought it was a _generous_ offer and insisted on going."

"No way! Willingly jumping into the viper's pit?" Zabini exclaimed. "She's got to be out of her mind, Malfoy. Are you _sure_ she's worth all this?"

Draco narrowed his eyes and kicked the end of Zabini's broom handle. It made the other end shoot up and soundly clunk Zabini upside the head. Zabini groaned.

"Stop asking stupid questions, Zabini, and try to be useful. Now how do I keep her from trying to go to the Manor? You know how hard-headed she is." _She has to be, to put up with me,_ he thought, smirking to himself. _I _am_ quite a handful._

Zabini furrowed his brow in thought. "Maybe…" he began after a moment of silence, "maybe if you make it sound like everything's great and how you'd really like her to go..? You know how girls always seem to want to do the opposite of what you want—kind of a reverse psychology sort of thing," he shrugged as he rubbed the red welt that was beginning to rise on his temple.

Draco slowly nodded his head. "Hmm…that's so ridiculously simple and dumb that it just might work. At least it gives me an idea, anyway." He stood up and clapped Zabini on the sore side of his head, eliciting another groan from him. "Thanks, Zabini."

Draco stuffed the letter back into his pocket and headed up to his dormitory room as the wheels in his head already began to whir with a plan. Faintly from behind him, he could hear Zabini sourly grumbling, "Don't mention it."


	3. Reverse Psychos

Chapter 3—Reverse Psychos

The next morning, Hermione had managed to beat Draco to their usual spot in the Great Hall at the foot of the Slytherin table. Her arriving first was not all that unusual though, being as Draco was not the earliest of risers. Occasionally, she would meet him outside the Slytherin common room, mainly because she liked to watch him emerge bleary-eyed from sleep, with his shining hair still a bit mussed and framing his face and neck like a platinum cloud.

Today, however, she had other plans. She had gone to the library before breakfast so that she could pick up a few books for some necessary research, and as she became engrossed in _A Study of Wizarding Genealogies of Great Britain_, she heard a voice from behind her. "How in the bloody hell can you be studying at this time of the morning, Granger? Anyone in their right mind should still be in bed," Draco grumbled, running a finger lightly across her back as he slid into a seat beside her.

Hermione smiled. Although he was usually pretty grumpy in the morning, Draco always managed to soften his acerbic words with small gestures of affection. He didn't even realize that he did it, and Hermione never called attention to it because Draco still had difficulty expressing his emotions from time to time. She didn't want to embarrass him.

She looked up from her book and leaned over to kiss him on the ear. "Good morning," she said, and immediately went back to reading.

"Hey," Draco protested. "That's all I get? Books don't kiss back you know, Head Girl."

Hermione almost giggled. He sounded like a sulky child who had been deprived of his favorite toy. She bit back a smile and looked up at him. He had a characteristic sneer on his face and his tie was hanging around his neck, shirt collar open with his white-blonde hair flowing over it and falling across his chiseled jaw. _He'll probably be cutting it pretty soon,_ she thought regretfully. _Although I don't think he looks like his father with his hair like that. He looks more like an indignant fallen angel_… Hermione nearly blushed at that fanciful thought and brought her attention back to her book so as not to make a complete fool of herself. "Perhaps not," she answered, "but this is something I need to—"

She was interrupted by the smack of a tray on the table at the seat to her left. "Morning, Hermione," Ginny said as she lowered herself into the seat next to her. "What's new?"

"Oi, Weasley, I'm here too, you know." Draco griped.

"Yeah…unfortunately. So what's new, Hermione?" Ginny continued as if he hadn't spoken.

Hermione, who always found the banter between Ginny and Draco highly entertaining, smiled in amusement. "Nothing much," she answered with a grin as she bent back over her book.

"What the hell is this?" Draco interjected, grabbing a magazine off of Ginny's tray. He glared at Ginny as he held it up for inspection. "Weasley, you have got _some nerve_ flashing a new Quidditch magazine in front of me. I've a good mind to keep it as retribution for the one of mine that you've been holding hostage for over a month, damn it!"

Hermione plucked the magazine out of his hand and handed it back to Ginny, who gave Draco a mocking grin as she tucked it under her arm. "Draco, will you shush up about the magazine once and for all? I'm trying to read here, for Merlin's sakes," Hermione scolded him lightly.

"Yeah, because everyone knows that the Great Hall is the best place for studying. Why would anyone in their right mind read in the library when they have the Great Hall?" he replied in a sarcastic drawl.

"God, Malfoy, if you get any cheerier in the morning, I don't think I'll be able to stand it," Ginny proclaimed.

"Shut your trap, Weasley. Now what is this you're reading that's so bloody important, anyway?" he asked Hermione as he slid the book out from under her hands.

"Draco—give that back!"

Draco frowned as he read the title. Then he slowly looked up at her and asked in a controlled, low tone, "And just _why_ is it so important that you learn about Wizarding Genealogies all of a sudden?"

"Well, I know that your family name is very important to your parents, so I wanted to be prepared when I go with you to the Manor in a couple of days," she explained.

A strange expression crossed Draco's face and he opened his mouth to retort, but was cut off by Ginny. "Did I just hear you say that you're going to Malfoy Manor? Then why did you just tell me that nothing was new? That's some pretty big news!" Ginny exclaimed.

Hermione turned to Ginny. "I'm sorry; I was distracted by the book I was reading. Plus, I am a little nervous about the whole thing," she admitted candidly.

"Granger, you're not going to—"

"How did it all happen?" Ginny was enthralled.

"Draco got a letter from his Mum and she invited the both of us to the Manor for Halloween weekend."

"Granger, I _said_—"

"Wow…an entire weekend at Malfoy Manor! That'll be interesting…" Ginny mused.

Hermione looked over at Draco, who seemed to be visibly struggling with something. _Uh oh,_ she thought. _I hope there's not a problem._ "Draco, did you want to say something?" she asked, concerned.

"Well…er…" Distracted, he ran a hand through his hair.

Hermione bit her lip. "_Is_ there a problem?" she asked worriedly.

"Er…_no._ No, there's no problem. In fact, I'm…uh…_excited_…that you're going to the Manor with me for the weekend." Another odd expression crossed his face; Hermione suspected that he might have been trying to smile.

"What's the matter, Malfoy, are you sick or something? You look constipated."

Draco looked over at Ginny and narrowed his eyes at her. Then he turned back to Hermione and smiled a bit more convincingly.

"You mean that?" Hermione asked in disbelief. "You _want_ me to go with you?"

"Yeah…sure, why not," he said, as he leaned over to give her a kiss on the neck.

Merlin, he wasn't going to fight her on the issue! This was wonderful. She brought a hand up to run through his silky hair as she whispered back to him, "Draco, thank you so much…you won't regret this." She punctuated it with a kiss to his temple.

"Oh, pshee…get a room, you two," Ginny grumbled in a good-natured tone. "You're making me lose my appetite."

Hermione ignored her and hugged Draco back. Smiling, she silently celebrated, _I'm going to Malfoy Manor…I'm going to Malfoy Manor…I'm going to Malfoy Manor…_


	4. Pleasing Others

Chapter 4—Pleasing Others

After breakfast, Hermione and Draco walked to Potions together. Hermione was so excited about the prospect of going to Malfoy Manor that she was chattering along happily, but Draco was uncharacteristically silent. His mind, however, was racing. _Merlin's balls._ _She's all up for going to the Manor now…I should have known better. _Ploys that worked on others never seemed to work the same way with Hermione Granger. _She _can't _go…it's the worst thing that could possibly happen,_ he thought. _They'll hate her just on principle alone, and it'll break her heart._ _Damn it! How am I going to turn this around? _He chewed his lip in consternation._ And Zabini doesn't know his bum from a hole in the ground about girls…no wonder he's not dating anyone at the moment. Bloody idiot._

"Draco," Hermione broke into his silent reverie. She was smiling and tugging on his jumper sleeve. "Why are you so quiet? Aren't you excited about the holiday weekend?"

He stopped walking and looked down at her. Her big brown eyes were huge and shining _(Aw, man…)_, her dark hair was in its usual unruly tangle of curls around her face and shoulders, and she was smiling up at him in such a sweet and loving way that he felt as if he had been punched in the stomach. _I can't possibly bring her home…I couldn't see them treat her like…like… _He abruptly turned away from her and slammed his hands against the wall.

There was a moment of silence as he continued to stare at the wall, both of his hands plastered to it and his back turned to Hermione. _I can't lie to her, but I can't have her go, either,_ he thought. _Think, Draco, think…_

He felt a gentle touch on his back. "Draco?" she asked him in a small, startled voice.

In a flash, he whirled around, buried his hands in her hair and kissed her with all of the pent-up emotion he was feeling; as if he were trying to drink in her very sweetness. That sweetness was one of the things he treasured about her above all else and the thought of that very trait being used against her as a form of weakness was horrid to Draco, to say the very least.

He could feel Hermione's knees grow weak from the kiss, but then she clung to him tightly and pulled back only slightly for air. "Please," she gasped, "something is _wrong_. Just tell me. You can tell me," she insisted, hugging him close.

He buried his face in her wild curls. "Hermione, please just promise me something," he muttered into her hair.

She tensed at his use of her first name. Mainly because he only called her "Hermione" at very extreme moments—usually at either an impasse in an argument, or at the moment of a heartfelt declaration, which was quite rare—and he could tell that Hermione was becoming alarmed at the unexpected intensity that was coming from him. "Of course, Draco…what is it?" she asked worriedly.

"Promise you won't go to with me to the Manor."

"But…but I thought that you _wanted_ me to go with you," her voice sounded perplexed.

"That's because I listened to a bloody idiot."

"Huh?"

"Never mind. Just promise you won't go with me, baby, _please,_" he continued to hold her tightly so that he wouldn't have to look at her. He was embarrassed that she had seen him react so strongly, but what he was saying most definitely needed to be said. She could _not_ go to Malfoy Manor.

"Draco…I want to be there with you. I want to help," she added as she kissed him on the jaw.

"Granger, it'll help me more if I don't have to worry about you, okay?" he managed, his face still buried in her hair.

"Why would you have to worry—" But at that he tensed even more, so she didn't complete the question. Instead, she pulled away from him and looked him squarely in the eye. "All right," she said as she stroked his hair. "If it's that important to you, then I won't go with you. I just didn't want you to have to face them all alone."

He sighed in relief. "I know, Granger, I know." Now that the issue was resolved, he was self-conscious that he had let her see his desperation. He immediately began to repair the damage as he managed a tiny smirk. "You'll just have to make up for lost time when I get back, is all," he said as he ran his fingers across her hip.

She blushed in response. "_Draco_," she said in a warning tone, even as she tried to hide a returning smile.

"Hmmm?" he said as he leaned in to nibble her neck.

"We're going to be late for Potions," she cautioned, even though she was leaning in to his touch.

"Ah, Potions, schmotions. I say we skive off; Slughorn'll be glad I'm not there, anyway," he drawled as one of his hands began to creep towards her bum.

Hermione giggled as she reluctantly stepped away from him and grabbed his hand. "Come on, you git. I'm going to class. And if _I'm_ going, _you're_ going."

After Potions, Draco ran into Blaise Zabini in the hallway on the way to his next class, Astronomy. It was one of the few classes that they had together, so Draco decided to take full advantage of the opportunity. "You're a bloody idiot," he said in a form of greeting to Blaise as they began to head towards the Astronomy tower.

Zabini glared back at him. "Why the hell do I even talk to you, anyway?" he said irritably.

"Look at the alternatives," Draco sneered back. "Harper? Nott? _Bulstrode?_" At the last name, Zabini visibly flinched. Millicent Bulstrode had had a crush on Zabini for years, and she was, in Zabini's words, "pretty difficult to look at on a full stomach".

Zabini recovered quickly and grimaced at Draco. "So if I'm a bloody idiot, that must mean that Granger's still going to the Manor, I assume?"

"No, thank Merlin. I got her to promise me not to."

"Really? How'd you manage that?" Zabini was intrigued.

There was no way in hell Draco was going to tell Blaise Zabini that in a moment of weakness, he practically begged Hermione not to go. It was none of Zabini's damn business. Draco simply answered, "I can be rather persuasive," in a casual tone. It wasn't a lie; he _had_ persuaded her not to go, after all.

Zabini grinned knowingly. "Oh…so you _persuaded_ her, did you, Malfoy? Was it as good for you as it was for her?"

Draco looked sidewise at Zabini and shook his head at him. "Zabini," he grumbled, "you really _are_ a bloody idiot."


	5. Promises, Promises

**Hi all! Just wanted to mention again that I've officially launched my forum which contains some other supplementary Hogwarts series fan fic which I will not be posting here, as well as a lot of my original material including excepts from my Original Novel. If interested, please PM me for membership—I'd love to welcome you aboard.**

**And now, without further interruption...**

Chapter 5—Promises, Promises

Later that afternoon, Hermione decided to go back to the library and return most of the books she had taken out on Wizarding families, although she opted to keep one of the volumes, _A Study of Wizarding Genealogies of Great Britain, _because she had already started it and liked to finish whatever she started. With a sigh, she reluctantly handed over the books to Madame Pince, who rewarded her with a glare that was slightly less stern than her usual glare for returning the books so promptly, and headed into the Ancient Runes section for some extra credit research.

As she perused the endless shelves of tomes, Hermione thought that she had heard her name coming from the other side of the bookcase. Curiously, she pulled a rather large book off of the shelf and peeked through to the other side.

Blaise Zabini was sitting at one of the tables, reclined indolently in his seat as he chatted with Morag MacDougal, a Ravenclaw that Hermione and Draco had had a bit of trouble with a month back, but all was settled rather amicably. Seeing the two of them together, Hermione smiled. She knew that Blaise had developed a fancy for Morag, and he was obviously making his move in that area. _But why would they be mentioning _my_ name? _Hermione wondered. She leaned in closer for a better view.

"Well, luckily she's _not_ going to the Manor, because they'd flay her alive with their cutting remarks and manipulative ways," Zabini was saying. "Malfoy's got enough to worry about when he has to explain to them about her," Zabini snorted. "They may not even let him come back here."

_What? _Hermione was was definitely worse than Draco had let on.

"You think so?" Morag asked curiously.

"Who knows. Anyway, Granger _never_ would have been able to handle it."

Morag's face was troubled. "No," she agreed. "I don't suppose she would. She's far too…_nice_, and she's been through enough as it is. Plus, Malfoy can't be that easy to put up with. He _is_ quite the arrogant prat," she added in an acerbic tone.

Blaise smirked and nodded. "No argument there. But if you knew what his family was like, it'd explain a lot. And be prepared for him to come back from holiday weekend in an extra foul mood...that is, if he _does_ come back. Whenever he's at the Manor for any length of time, it turns him into a real toss-pot."

_If he _does_ come back?_

"I'll be sure to keep clear of him, then. Thanks for the warning."

"So," Blaise leaned forward in his seat and smiled predatorily, "_that's_ the latest gossip. Now what do I get for my reward, hmm?"

Morag gave him a coy smile. "You get to watch me study," she said as she tilted her head over her book, still smiling up at him through her lashes.

"Oh, joy. I wonder if you'd be willing to change your mind about that…"

Hermione had heard enough. Troubled, she quietly slid the book back onto the shelf and slipped away. _I knew they wouldn't be happy about the idea at first, but I had no idea that the issue with Draco's parents would be quite _that_ serious._ _He should have told me._ Deep in thought, she wandered back towards the entrance of the library. _And it wouldn't kill him to ask for help every once in a while, _she thought with a surge of irritation. _I'm not a fragile little doll. I can handle myself just fine, Mr. Malfoy, and maybe even help you out, too. But then again, I _did_ promise that I wouldn't go with him… _She sighed and continued to walk. Before she knew it, she was at the front desk facing Madame Pince once again.

"May I help you?" Madame Pince asked in a cold voice.

Hermione hesitated for a moment, then collected herself and said resolutely, "Yes, Madame Pince. I'd like those books back that I just returned, please."

When Hermione got to their usual spot at the Slytherin table for supper, Ginny was already there, arguing with Draco. "Malfoy," she was scolding him, "this isn't funny! You've got to quit pulling stunts like this during practice—it antagonizes the rest of the team!" She was waving what looked to be a Silver Stag Quidditch team robe at Draco, who was sprawled back in his seat looking highly amused at Ginny's reaction.

"What's going on?" Hermione asked casually. Ginny and Draco were always sniping at each other; it was as close to friendly as Draco got, and Ginny tolerated him both for Hermione's sake and for the sake of her Quidditch team. After all, Draco _was_ quite an accomplished Seeker.

"Look at this!" Ginny shouted, as she held up the Quidditch uniform for Hermione to see. Normally, there was a large silver stag emblazoned across the back of the cape (Ginny had named the team the Silver Stags in homage to Harry's Patronus), but now the stag more closely resembled a pig with rather large and ridiculously exaggerated antlers. Hermione quickly bit back a smile.

"_This_ is the Quidditch uniform that he's been wearing to practices, and then he actually has the gall to wonder why Peakes has been beaning him in the back of the head with Bludgers!" Ginny complained.

"Hey, it's _my_ uniform Weasley, and I can wear it whatever way I want," Draco drawled snarkily. He was obviously enjoying himself as he looked up at Hermione with a smirk and insolently popped a grape into his mouth.

"Draco…" Hermione admonished him, fighting to keep a straight face, "you know very well that the name of the team is the _Silver Stags_."

"Yeah, well, I was thinking to improve the mascot a bit. Maybe we could be the Silver Sows, and our team slogan could be, '_Care for a roll in the mud? We've got no problem playing dirty!_'" His silver-blue eyes sparkled as he gave Hermione a mischievous grin.

"That robe had better be changed back before our next game, Malfoy; otherwise you'll be playing in the buff!" Ginny cried.

Draco smiled naughtily back at her. "So now the truth comes out. You just want to see me naked, don't you, Weasley?"

Ginny threw up her arms in exasperation. "I've got to get back to the table with the rest of the team and figure out a few things. Hermione, please see if you can talk some sense into this…this…_thing_." And with that, she tossed Draco's uniform unceremoniously onto the table and stalked off.

Hermione gave him a pointed look as she sat down next to him. "Now Draco, was that _really_ necessary?"

"Maybe not, but it was a hell of a lot of fun," he said, leaning in to Hermione and sliding a hand over her knee.

"_Draco_," Hermione blushed and moved away slightly so that his hand slid off of her knee. "Not here," she whispered self-consciously.

"Come on…just a little," he pressed, leaning in again, this time to nip her on the ear.

She shivered with delight and turned to him with a smile. "Well…you certainly seem to be in a good mood this evening."

"Mmm…kinda," he murmured as he kissed her neck.

"Draco, _not here_," she repeated furtively. He sat back with a disgruntled look and appeased himself by popping another grape into his mouth. Hermione figured that this would be a good opportunity to get information out of him being as he was so relaxed, so she ventured, "So…are you looking forward to going home?" She was going to watch his reaction very carefully. If his home life was as difficult as Blaise had intimated, she would be able to see it in Draco's reaction, and then she would know what she needed to do.

Draco looked back at her, expressionless, and said, "It should be fine. I haven't seen my parents in a few months, after all."

Hermione studied him until she thought her eyeballs would pop out. _Darn it all,_ she realized,_ I had forgotten what an accomplished Occlumens he is. I can't read a thing off of him._

After a moment of silence, he quirked a knowing eyebrow at her. "I'll be fine, Granger, okay? And remember, you _did_ promise that you wouldn't go with me to the Manor."

Hermione sighed in resignation. Yes, she did promise. _Merlin's pants._


	6. The Pawn

Chapter 6—The Pawn

Draco sat back and examined the rather strange looking lump that was lying on the bed in front of him. _Hmm…not quite right just yet._ He took out his wand and tapped the lump and it transfigured into an abnormally large elf ear in a bright purple hue, complete with exaggerated point at the top and green hair erupting from the inner cavern. _Almost…but maybe one more thing. _He tapped it one more time and it sprouted a small pair of legs and feet and started to skitter frantically across his bed. _Yeah, that's it. Perfect…_ It took him several tries to catch the renegade ear (it was quite intent on trying to escape), but he finally managed to stuff it, crazily kicking legs and all, into the box next to him and slam the lid down. The box already contained a note that read, _Thought you could use this a HOLE lot,_ and Draco took out a quill and addressed the box to _George Weasley, Weasley's Wizard Wheezes II, Hogsmeade Village. _

With a smirk, he set the box on his desk to mail in the morning and turned back to his other task, which was infinitely less desirable. He had to pack up a few things for his weekend at the Manor. He'd be leaving after classes tomorrow afternoon (being as Halloween was on a Friday this year, he had to be home by dinner), and he figured that it would be easier if he was already prepared once he got out of class. _Merlin forbid I'm late,_ Draco thought sourly. Frowning, he took a bag from out of his trunk and tossed it onto the bed. He stood there, scowling for a moment, then finally sighed and waved his wand. A few plain robes, extra toiletries, and some other random objects flew across the room and arranged themselves within the depths of the bag. _That ought to do it. _He went to zip up the bag and place it back on the top of his trunk, but hesitated as he noticed a small white object peeking out from underneath one of his dark robes. Curiously, he reached into the bag and pulled it out for inspection.

It was an ivory chess piece, a King, from his mother's antique wizard's chess set. Intricately beautiful, the valuable piece had to be at least 100 years old. But that wasn't why Draco had taken it. He had claimed it in victory after he had finally beaten his mother at wizard's chess on his last day at the Manor before coming back to Hogwarts to complete his 7th year. Draco and his mother had a tradition of playing highly competitive games of wizard's chess against each other since his mother had taught him to play when he was 7 years old. Narcissa Malfoy was a very accomplished chess player, and had never patronized Draco by letting him win, not once. He remembered a game where she had obliterated him when he was 9…

"_Mother! Do you have to take the pieces so quickly? You didn't even give me a chance, for Merlin's sakes!"_

_His mother was chuckling softly to herself as she arranged Draco's black chess pieces in front of her. 'Why, look at that! I do believe my army is complete!" she said merrily as the pieces bowed to her in deference. _

"_That's not fair. I never get to win," Draco pouted as he watched his traitorous chess pieces reverently dote upon his mother._

"_Now, Draco," Narcissa looked at him closely, her deep blue eyes suddenly serious. "Listen to me carefully: I am _never_ going to let_ _you win. I want you to know that when you finally do beat me, that you've earned it, and then it will be a true victory for you."_

"_But that might never_ _happen!" he cried impatiently._

"_Oh yes it will, son. You have so much potential, and I want to make sure that you discover all of it and don't merely rest back on the laurels of being a Malfoy." She was looking at him so intently that Draco was mesmerized by her expression and the depth of feeling behind her words, even though he didn't completely understand their significance at the time. Staring back at her, he slowly nodded._

"_That's my boy. Now put those pieces back onto the board and let's try that again." _

Draco smiled at the memory. He had had a close relationship with his mother at one time, and some of his best memories of her had involved their legendary games as they good-naturedly taunted and insulted each other for hours and hours at a time over the chess board. However, when Lucius Malfoy entered the picture, the entire dynamic shifted and his mother would defer to whatever his father wished as she retreated behind a mask of icy perfectionism. When Draco was younger, it hadn't been so bad—Lucius Malfoy had always been a bit cold, but he would thaw from time to time and had even taken an interest in teaching Draco how to fly a broom, rather than hiring a professional teacher, as was Malfoy custom. Then suddenly, something changed. As whispers began that Voldemort was regaining strength, his father got caught up again in his old Death Eater mania, and life at the Manor became more and more difficult. Draco couldn't quite put his finger on when exactly it had happened, but he was well aware of it being in full swing by the year before he had started at Hogwarts. All of a sudden there was an increasing pressure on Draco to be perfect ("_Can't let those mudbloods outperform you when you get to school, boy! What would they think of the Malfoys then?"_), and he began to feel more like a tool than a son.

He soon realized that the best way to win his father's approval was to adopt his belief system. The first time Draco had said the word _mudblood_, Lucius had taken him to Diagon Alley and let Draco pick out anything he wanted from Zonko's Joke Shop. By the time Draco was ready to begin attending school, he had made his father practically burst his buttons with pride when he had asked to go to Durmstrang instead of Hogwarts. Narcissa, however, had quickly put a stop to that, stating that there was _no way _thatshe would tolerate Draco attending a school so far away from home. Then she called him into the library and soundly trounced him in another game of wizard's chess.

Draco looked down at the chess piece in his hand once again and grimaced. Life at the Manor was no longer that…_colorful._ At first, Draco thought it might be different. After all, during the Battle at Hogwarts his father had seemed to come to his senses and drop the Death Eater act when the family banded together in order to keep each other alive. But in the post-War fallout, Lucius Malfoy realized that he had lost a great deal of face in the wizarding world. This left him embittered, and he retreated even further behind his own cold mask of distant, disdainful, thoroughly Malfoy father. It got to the point where Draco rarely even saw his father anymore (which, in Draco's current opinion, was a good thing). The way his father was now made the Lucius Malfoy of Draco's childhood look positively genial.

Draco's mother had also been irrevocably changed. The strain of keeping the family together and attempting to restore honor to the name of Malfoy in the wizarding world had turned her cold as well. She had always had a tendency to be a bit of a perfectionist, but now she demanded the same perfectionism from everyone around her, particularly Draco. The one crack in her armor had been when he had finally beaten her at chess on his last night at the Manor:

"_Merlin's bloody blue balls! I don't believe it!"_

"_Draco, for Merlin's sake, watch your language," Narcissa admonished him, her face carefully schooled in an expression of disapproval, but her eyes were sparkling._

"_Wait a minute…I have to stand up to say this, to get the proper inflection," Draco pushed himself up out of the armchair with a diabolical grin. He made a big show of clearing his throat._

"_Son, let's not make a career out of this."_

"_CHECKMATE!" he roared. _

"_Draco," Narcissa scolded him, not quite smiling, "put that King back!"_

"_Oh no…he's MINE—I've earned him! You'll just have to win him back from me if you ever want to see him in the house again, Mum," Draco replied cheekily as he admired the fidgety King in his hands that he had plucked from the board._

"_I intend to." Narcissa quirked a challenging eyebrow at him as she rose from her seat and regally swept from the library in a flurry of silk robes. Draco continued to study the King in his hands as if he couldn't quite believe that it was real. "Oh, and Draco…" a voice came from the doorway._

_Draco looked up questioningly._

_Narcissa Malfoy was standing in the doorway, her eyes misty as she gave him the tiniest smile. "I am SO proud of you, my son."_

Draco smiled at the memory. He wished that moments like that with his mother weren't so few and far in between now. He glanced down again at the King in his hand, and realized that explaining about Hermione to his parents would be even tougher than trying to beat Narcissa Malfoy at chess. This was going to be one long weekend. He let out a slow, deep breath.

_Well,_ he thought to himself, _at least Hermione won't be there to get thrown in front of the firing squad._ That was definitely one thing in his favor. He slowly tucked the King back into his bag, shoved it under the bed, and headed off in the direction of the library in order to get in some Hermione-time before curfew.


	7. The Rook

Chapter 7—The Rook

Halloween dawned with a foreboding red sunrise. Hermione knew because she had seen it happen. She hadn't slept much the night before because she was too busy worrying about the conversation that she had overheard in the library between Blaise Zabini and Morag MacDougal, and had ended up sitting in the window seat in her room watching the sun rise over _A Study of Wizarding Genealogies of Great Britain. _

Finally, it was time for breakfast so she wandered off to the Great Hall with the book tucked underneath her arm. Once she was situated at the foot of the Slytherin table (she had naturally beaten Draco to breakfast—it was even earlier than usual so he was most likely still grumbling his way out of bed), she propped the large book up in front of her and continued to read as she cracked open one of her soft-boiled eggs.

Just then, she heard a derisive laugh float over the top of the book. She looked up to see Blaise Zabini staring down at her incredulously. "Granger, what in the blazes are you reading?"

Hermione blinked at him in surprise. "Just some research," she answered vaguely. She'd never really had a conversation with Blaise before; she wasn't exactly sure how to take him.

"_A Study of Wizarding Genealogies of Great Britain?_" he mocked, reading the title aloud, "I hope this doesn't mean that you've changed your mind about going to the Manor, little Gryffindor."

Hermione felt her temper start to rise. She was becoming tired of being patronized. "So what if I have?" she asked testily.

"Granger, the Malfoys would chew you up and spit you out even more easily than that gooshy little egg you've got there."

At that, Hermione slowly stood up and looked Blaise directly in the eye. "Blaise Zabini," she said in her best Head Girl voice, "I have been through a War and have seen things that would send not only you, but probably about nine-tenths of the wizarding world into hysterics. I could have handled myself _just fine_ at the Manor, believe me!"

Blaise didn't answer her right away; he merely gave her an appraising look, then finally smirked and said, "Maybe you're right, Granger…in fact, I'm almost sorry you're not going. It could have been entertaining to hear about how you tried to save Malfoy from being roasted on a spit."

Hermione's brow creased with worry. "Is it truly going to be that bad for him?"

Blaise shrugged. "It might."

"I really should be there, but I promised him that I wouldn't go. Merlin's beard!" she exclaimed in frustration.

Blaise looked at her conspiratorially and drawled, "Promised him, eh? Well, you Gryffindors are too stupidly honorable to go there, but there's _always_ a loophole in promises, you know. You've just got to find it…that is, if you really need to." And with that, he strolled away, whistling, with his hands in his pockets.

_A loophole?_ Hermione wondered. _I don't know…I can't break a promise, but if there was a way to help Draco out without going back on my word…hmmm…_

Just then, Draco sauntered up to the table, frowning grumpily due to the fact that he was awake, but not happy about it. As he moved to lower himself into the seat next to hers, he pushed her book over (it landed on her toast with a _thump_) and brushed his lips across her neck as he settled into place.

Hermione looked at him and couldn't help smiling at his rumpled appearance. He had leaned forward and propped his head onto his folded arms and was practically nodding right back off to sleep. Hermione reached forward and gave a little tug on his earlobe to rouse him, but couldn't resist running her hand through his silky white-blonde locks. He grunted in appreciation.

"Happy Halloween," she said softly.

"Buggeration," he mumbled, turning his head back into his arms.

"Come on, Mr. Malfoy," she teased, gently shaking his shoulder, "sit up or you'll fall asleep."

"Nnnguh," he pushed himself up slowly with a groan.

"Draco! Where's your tie?"

Draco looked down at his chest. His shirt collar was open, but his tie, which was usually dangling haphazardly around his neck, was nowhere to be found. "Bloody hell," he muttered. "I must've left it on my bed."

"Shouldn't you go get it?"

"Ahhhhh…" he grumbled, shrugging. He once again lowered his head onto his folded arms.

"Draco…" He was even more out of it than usual this morning, Hermione realized. She could see that he had dark circles underneath his eyes—he had obviously been up all night worrying about something, and she wanted to get to the bottom of it. "Are you all right?" she asked. "Has something been troubling you?" _Just tell me…confide in me…_please.

His head was still buried in his arms. "Granger," his muffled voice stated, "I'm fine. I just didn't sleep that well, okay?"

_You don't fool me for a second, Mr. Malfoy. I know that you're upset about going home, and you shouldn't be going alone!_ "Why not?" she pressed.

Irritated, he sat up. "I don't know; if I did, I probably would have managed to fall asleep!" he burst out.

He really was in a tear about this whole thing. "Fine," Hermione bristled. "Excuse me for being concerned for your welfare."

"Stubborn Gryffindor," he smirked, snaking up a hand to entwine in her wild curls. "Come here, O Concerned One," he drawled, pulling her in for a passionate kiss.

For a moment she melted into the kiss, then, realizing where she was, blushed and pulled away. Draco gave her a malevolent leer, then plucked a strawberry from her plate and popped it into his mouth.

"So…" she made one last-ditch effort, "you're sure you'll be all right by yourself this weekend?"

"Granger," he admonished, raking a hand through his hair, "you _promised_ you wouldn't go with me to the Manor, right?"

She sighed. "Right."

"Then that's all that needs to be said about the issue, okay?"

She nodded glumly.

"Okay, then," he said in a manner of dismissal, giving her knee a quick squeeze as he reached for some toast. Hermione sat back and watched him as he began to pile food onto his plate. _Loophole_, she recalled, thinking of her earlier conversation with Blaise. _I can't _possibly_ find a loophole in a promise like that…I flat-out said that I wouldn't go with him to the Manor…_

_That I wouldn't go…WITH HIM…to the Manor._

_That's it_, she realized with a start. She looked over at Draco, who was occupied with concocting a makeshift soft-boiled egg, sausage and toast sandwich _(Great Merlin, that's a huge sandwich he's putting together)_ and completely oblivious to her train of thought. _I _will_ keep my promise to you, Draco_, she thought excitedly. _You won't be on your own this weekend, but I will definitely not be going WITH YOU to Malfoy Manor…_


	8. The Knight

Chapter 8—The Knight

It was one of the few times that Draco could recall a day of classes flying by so quickly. He wasn't sure if it was due to the fact that he wasn't looking forward to leaving for the Manor right after his last class, or that he had basically slept through all of his classes because he hadn't gotten much sleep the night before. Hermione seemed a bit preoccupied as well—normally, she would have given him several swift kicks to the shin under the table for snoring during class and if that didn't work, he would have gotten a very Head Girlish lecture about it afterwards. But today, she did neither. She didn't even seem to be taking notes as much as usual; instead, he had inadvertently seen her parchment just after he had snarked himself awake during Charms, and it consisted of phrases such as, _Hogsmeade village square at 4pm_, and _Pick up a bunch_. Draco supposed she was going to get some things at Weasley's shop for Halloween—he made a mental note to ask Hermione to find out how George liked his latest "care package" when he got back from his…fun-filled weekend at the Manor.

And so the time had finally come for him to get going. Before he headed back to his dorm room to pick up his weekend bag, he pulled Hermione into a secluded alcove and kissed her with as much ardor as he could possibly muster. Maybe it hadn't the greatest idea, because it made him even more reluctant to leave. He found himself unable to stop, and Hermione became a bit tense as he grew more and more impassioned.

"Draco," she gasped, "Draco…we have to stop."

"I don't see why," he managed right before he gently bit her earlobe.

She sucked in her breath and took a step away from him. She was breathing heavily and her eyes were wide. Draco felt a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth—he knew that he had managed to unsettle her once again. Hermione still had difficulty dealing with the intensity that he was able bring out in her, and he could see that she was struggling for control_. Relax, Granger,_ he thought, amused, _it wouldn't kill you to act without thinking and planning everything out first, you know. _But he didn't say it aloud—he knew that it would only antagonize her at the moment. Timing was everything. Instead, he took a step towards her and reached out to tug on a stray curl. "You okay?" he asked.

She nodded and took in a shaky breath. "Yes. It was just a bit much…"

He sighed. "Maybe…maybe not."

At this point she had begun to adjust her uniform and was avoiding his gaze. "So, do you need anything else before you get going?"

He leered at her suggestively and her face flooded with color.

"Besides _that_," she said waspishly. He grinned. She really was cute when she was upset with him…it was probably why he enjoyed provoking her so much.

"Nah…I packed up yesterday," he said with a shrug, answering her question. "Well…er, I guess I'd better get going," he finished awkwardly. This was odd. He found that leaving her, even if only for a couple of days, was going to be difficult.

Apparently it wasn't difficult for Hermione, though. She gave him a warm smile and a quick, albeit enthusiastic hug. "Travel safe, Draco, and we'll see each other before you know it." Then she gave him a kiss on the cheek and a grin and dashed off down the hall.

_What the hell? That was rather anti-climatic…_ Draco found that he was a bit insulted at the casual goodbye_. Okay, Granger, just because _you're_ not going to the Manor doesn't mean that this is a bloody walk in the park for me! _Slightly miffed, he headed back to his dorm room and yanked his overnight bag out from underneath his bed. On his way down to the Slytherin common room, he ran in to Zabini.

"Oi, Malfoy, just saw your coach pulling up in the courtyard," Zabini said as he met Draco on the stairs.

Draco grimaced and grunted a word of thanks. To make himself feel better, he stuck out his foot at the last second, tripping Zabini as he stepped past. While Zabini cursed him roundly, Draco felt a satisfied grin seep across his face as he headed towards the courtyard.

He could just make out a black lacquered coach at the end of the drive. Several students were milling around the edge of the courtyard to get a better look at the fancy carriage, complete with a team of four pure black horses. Well, no one could ever say that the Malfoys didn't know how to travel in style. Being as Draco was unable to apparate from the school grounds and Lucius Malfoy refused to let anyone in his family use such a low-class form of travel as floo powder, the only alternatives were either by broom or the family coach. And of course broom was far too common a form of travel to suit his mother, so Draco was forced to settle for Malfoy carriage pick-up and delivery. He approached the carriage door and handed his bag to the footman, who hoisted it up into a back compartment. Draco stared at the door for a moment—the Malfoy family crest was emblazoned in silver across it: a large, barren tree with a snake winding up around the trunk. _How appropriate…the Tree of Knowledge, being as I know for a _fact_ that I'm headed into the viper's pit,_ Draco thought sourly. He yanked open the carriage door before the footman had a chance to open it for him, and quickly settled himself into a seat before he thought better of the whole situation and decided to leave.

The footman settled into the seat above and the carriage began to pull away from Hogwarts castle. As Draco watched the school grow smaller in the distance, he found himself wishing that the coach was moving in the opposite direction.

The coach's lurch to a stop was what roused Draco from sleep. Rubbing his eyes irritably, he climbed out of the carriage and scowled at the footman who was holding the door open for him. The Manor loomed up in front of him, as dark and gloomy as ever—Draco often felt like the place was frowning down at him in disapproval, but today it seemed even worse. If he didn't know better, he'd have thought that he was getting a condemning glare from the Manor, as if it knew that he was "fraternizing with a mudblood" and didn't deem him worthy of admittance. For a moment, he stared up at the Manor, the place that had been his home for eighteen years, and took a deep breath. _Here goes nothing,_ he thought, and headed to the front door.

A house elf greeted him at the front door. "Master Draco, lets me take your cloak!" it squeaked at him. From what Draco could recall, it was one of their younger house elves, and he supposed it was female. "Yeah, yeah," he grumbled, dropping the cloak directly over the tiny house elf and covering it in the folds of cloth. He smirked as he watched the house elf struggle with the voluminous fabric, attempting to get it into some semblance of order, all the while squealing, "Very good, Master Draco, very good!" When she had finally managed to neatly fold up his cloak, Draco turned to leave, then realized that Hermione would have been downright furious with him if she had seen his treatment of her beloved house elves. She had always insisted on treating them like regular people (_crazy Gryffindor,_ he smirked to himself), and had a rather odd sort of friendship with an especially ancient one named Creature, or something like that. _Well, let's see if there's anything to this insane theory of hers._ Gruffly, he turned to the house elf and asked, "You got a name?"

The house elf looked shocked to be asked such a question. After a moment of hesitation, she managed to squeak out, "Me…me name's Tooky, Master Draco."

"Tooky. Yeah, well…okay," he grunted, and turned away. He noticed as he was turning away that the little elf had begun to beam at him as if he had just told her that she had won the House Elf of The Year Contest. _Oh, great…hope that doesn't become too annoying._

As Draco made his way through the house, he noticed that it was even more silent than usual. Curiously, he looked around and noticed that there weren't any servants in sight. As he glanced over his shoulder, he noticed that the ruddy house elf (_Tooky,_ he corrected himself) was still watching him with a combination of curiosity and awe. "Where _is_ everybody?" he demanded.

Mistress Narcissa is outs on the veranda, Master Draco! She's waitings for you out there!" Tooky squeaked excitedly. "Woulds you like me to brings you some hot spiced cider?"

Hot spiced cider—the one thing he _did_ look forward to when returning home for Halloween weekend. The elves at Hogwarts could never quite duplicate the spice blend that the house elves at the Manor had always used. It was a recipe that had been in the family for generations, and Draco had grown up on the taste. It was a memory of happier times. "Yeah," he drawled, "bring a big mug out to me on the veranda." As Tooky happily scrambled away, Draco headed out to the veranda.

His mother, dressed in a flowing green silk robe, had his back to him, and was looking out at the gardens in a preoccupied manner. She hadn't even noticed his approach, he realized. _What is it with everybody today?_ he wondered, then cleared his throat to announce his presence.

Narcissa turned with a start. Evidently he had interrupted her in a deep train of thought. As she faced him, her face was carefully schooled in an expression of dignified propriety, but her eyes were shining. "Draco…" she said as she took a step towards him, then hesitated as her eyes darted about.

"I'm alone, Mum." He knew that she was prepared to battle the presence of a mudblood in her house, so he figured he'd clear the air immediately.

"Oh? What a shame," she said in the least sorriest tone he'd ever heard. He couldn't help smirking a bit at the sarcasm as she leaned forward to give him a brief peck on the cheek. "Welcome home, my son."

He looked about in confusion. "Where's father?" he asked. "And everyone else for that matter? The only soul in sight I've seen is…"

"Here is your cider, Master Draco! Can I gets you anything else?" The house elf handed Draco one of the largest mugs of cider he'd ever seen.

He took a sip and savored the rich, tangy, spicy blend as it ran down his throat and warmed his insides. "Mmm…no, that'll be all, Tooky. Er…thanks," he mumbled before taking another gulp.

"You is very welcome Master Draco!" The house elf said excitedly, then disapparated with a CRACK.

Narcissa was looking at him curiously; then abruptly shook herself out of her reverie. "Well," she began, answering his question, "we had to discharge a great deal of our servants…it seems that we found out that they were talking to that Rita Skeeter woman, who was planning to write some sort of post-War expose on former Death Eaters. As if that pitiful excuse for a scribbler has the right to say _anything_ about the Malfoy family…" she fumed, her eyes flashing angrily, even though she had managed to keep the rest of her expression neutral.

_Oh boy, dangerous territory,_ Draco thought. "Well, what about father?" he said, steering her away from the subject of Rita Skeeter.

"Your father left a few hours ago on some sort of errand. He mentioned something about getting in touch with someone, but he didn't specify. He did say that he would most definitely be home for dinner, however," she said, as she glided back towards the hallway. Draco followed her.

"Getting in touch with someone? Today? What the hell is going on, exactly?"

"Draco, _language_," Narcissa admonished him. "Now, why don't you go to your room and get settled. I have a few preparations to oversee before dinner, and then afterwards I think that you should meet me in the library." And with that, she glided up the spiral staircase, her green silk robe wafting behind her in her wake.

Draco smirked. She was wasting no time in getting back that chess piece. _Not if I have anything to do about it, Mum, _he thought impertinently, taking another gulp of his hot cider and sighing with pleasure. _Maybe this visit wasn't going to be so bad,_ he mused. _Mum's more relaxed because I came alone and father's not here to stiffen her up. I can explain to her the entire situation before he gets home, and maybe even manage to get her on my side._ Not that _that_ was all that likely, but at least he had a small chance. _Yep, this just might end up being tolerable…_

Just then, the bell at the front door gave a deep, ominous ring. Draco looked around for the butler, but the room was barren. That Tooky elf appeared to be one of the few servants left at the Manor, and she was probably too busy with dinner preparations to hear the doorbell. _Great. I suppose _I'm _going to have to answer the damned door, then._ Grumbling to himself, he headed to the large wooden door and hesitated for a moment, taking one last big gulp of cider before opening it with a scowl.

"Hello, Draco, Happy Halloween!"

Hermione Granger was standing in the doorway.

His mug of cider crashed to the floor.


	9. The Queen

Chapter 9—The Queen

Anxiously, Hermione watched Draco but continued to smile at him in a pleasant manner as if to convince him that nothing out of the ordinary was happening_. I can't believe he just dropped that cup, though!_

Draco gaped at her in silence for a moment, then looked around and stepped forward, shutting the door behind him so that they were both standing outside on the front stoop. "GRANGER!" he exploded. "What in the bloody hell…have you lost your mind? I thought we had agreed…you _promised_, Goddamn it!" He ran a hand through his hair in exasperation. "Merlin's bloody blue balls!"

_Oh…this is bad. He's so angry, he not even able to complete a sentence properly. _"Draco, please…give me a chance," she said in an entreating manner.

"Why should I? Especially when you promised you wouldn't come! What the hell? I thought you bloody Gryffindorks were honorable and never went back on your word!"

She bit her lip. "Well…technically, I _didn't_ go back on my word," she began.

"Technically? _Technically?_ What in buggeration is _that_ supposed to mean?"

"What I promised is that I wouldn't come _WITH YOU_ to the Manor. I never said that I wouldn't come on my own."

Draco opened his mouth to retort, but the rebuttal never came. "Blast," he finally said, more to himself than to her. Looking at her with suspicion, he continued, "And you came up with that…_technicality_ all on you own?"

"Well…not exactly. I was talking to Blaise, and—"

"You talked to Zabini?" Draco exploded once again. "Granger, I thought you'd have a little more sense than to listen to a bloody idiot like Blaise Zabini! I've got a good mind to—"

"Master Draco, is you okay? You dropped your cider!" A house elf was standing in the doorway, looking back and forth between Hermione and Draco with wide, concerned eyes.

_Wonderful…a diversion..._ Hermione stepped forward with a smile. "Hello, I'm Hermione Granger. And you are..?"

The house elf looked up at her, transfixed. "Me name's Tooky, Miss Hermione," she squeaked.

Draco rolled his eyes and grabbed Hermione by the shoulders, pulling her back. "And Miss Hermione was just leaving, Tooky," he said pointedly.

"I am not! I have been invited for the weekend by your mother," Hermione protested.

"Ohhh…" Tooky's face dawned with recognition. "Then _you_ is the guest that Mister Lucius said we was expecting for dinner! Come in, come in, Miss Hermione, can I takes your cloak?"

At this point, Draco was quite beside himself. "My _father_ said that we were expecting her for dinner?" he said in disbelief.

Taking advantage of his consternation, Hermione once again stepped past Draco and into the foyer, shuffling the bundle in her arms so that she could remove her cloak and fold it neatly as she handed it to Tooky. Tooky took the cloak from her with shining eyes. "Very good, Miss Hermione! Can I gets you some hot spiced cider?"

"Oh no, you don't—don't get too comfortable, Granger."

"Yes, Tooky, that would be splendid! Thank you very much."

As the tiny house elf scurried off to get the hot cider, Draco turned to Hermione, still rather miffed. His arms were folded and he was glaring down at her. "All right, Granger, if you're so hell-bent on staying, I guess there's nothing much I can do about it," he growled.

"Good…at least _that's_ finally settled," she said, her voice sounding more confident than she felt. He was really angry with her—this weekend was not off to the best start.

He turned and began to head towards the drawing room. "Come on, then," he said in a terse manner. Hermione took a deep breath and began to follow him. Looking up, she noticed the huge chandelier looming portentously over the center of the large room. She halted rather suddenly and stared up at it, remembering…

_The death grip on her hair had pulled her head up at such an awkward and painful angle that it made the chandelier dangling overhead swim dangerously in her vision. She could feel the cool metal of a blade being pressed to her throat._

"_You are lying, filthy Mudblood, and I know it!" You have been inside my vault at Gringotts! Tell the truth_, tell the truth_!" Bellatrix's shrill scream echoed in her ears._

Draco was watching her with a shuttered look on his face. "You okay?" he asked.

Hermione took a deep breath and steeled herself. She could handle this, and it was high time she faced the demons that still haunted her occasionally in her dreams. She nodded. "I'm fine."

His gaze flicked down to her arms—he had just noticed that she had been holding a bunch of flowers the entire time. "What the hell is that?" he demanded.

She looked down at the bunch of small white flowers, wrapped with a white satin ribbon. "They're a type of Narcissus flower. For your Mum," she explained. "I didn't think the daffodils were as fitting, so instead I got—"

"Paperwhites," he interrupted.

"Yes," she said, surprised.

"Miss Hermione! Here is your cider! I hopes you likes it!" Tooky had entered the room once again and handed a huge mug of cider to Hermione with such reverence that Hermione was touched by the gesture. "Thank you, Tooky, I'm sure I will." She took a sip of the steaming cider, which was positively delicious. "Tooky," she said, looking down at the little elf in wonder, "this has got to be the _best_ cider I've ever tasted in my entire life!"

Tooky was gazing up at Hermione as if she were a combination of The Weird Sisters, Viktor Krum and Santa Claus. "I is so glad you likes it, Miss Hermione! Can I gets you anything else?" she squeaked with excitement.

"No thank you, Tooky, I'm fine," Hermione said as she took another sip of the cider.

Tooky looked up at Draco. "Mistress Narcissa says she'll be right down, Master Draco!"

Draco grimaced. "Fan-bloody-tastic…" he was muttering to himself.

"Draco, Darling, you didn't mention that we were to have a guest for the weekend!" Hermione looked up to see Narcissa Malfoy gracefully descending the spiral staircase, her rich emerald-green silk robes floating about her as she walked. She stopped a few feet in front of Hermione and looked at her with a combination of curiosity and thinly-veiled distaste. "Welcome to the Manor, Miss…_Granger_, is that correct?"

Hermione hadn't seen Narcissa Malfoy since that fateful night at the Manor, but so much had happened that evening that Hermione felt like she was getting a good look at Draco's mother for the first time. The woman was utterly breathtaking. Her hair was the same white-blonde as Draco's, and it hung to her waist in a long, perfectly twisted coil adorned with a string of emeralds. Her eyes, a deep piercing blue, were turning an ice cold blast on Hermione that made Draco's cold glare look downright rudimentary. Hermione struggled to find her voice under the frigid ocular assault. "Yes…Her..Hermione Granger, ma'am," she said in a hesitant voice.

Narcissa pressed her lips together into a thin line. "Ah, yes. The…_muggleborn_," she said, with just the right emphasis on "muggleborn" to imply another word.

Hermione held her ground. Plastering a polite smile across her face, she stepped forward, shifted the cider mug in her hands, and handed the bouquet to Narcissa. "Here, Mrs. Malfoy, I brought these for you."

A brief flicker of surprise flashed in Narcissa's eyes as she took the proffered gift. As she looked down at the prettily wrapped bundle of flowers in her arms, she remarked in a quiet tone, mostly to herself, "Paperwhites."

Hermione gave Draco a questioning look but he simply looked back at her, his face maddeningly blank.

Narcissa looked at the flowers once more before handing them rather quickly to Tooky. "Take these and put them in my crystal vase in the library," she instructed the little elf. "Yes, well, Draco, why don't you get our…_guest_…settled properly in one of the guest quarters. I must get back to the dinner preparations." And with that, she regally swept from the room.

Draco quirked an eyebrow at Hermione. "So…you survived your first encounter with the Ice Queen," he remarked in a flat voice.

"She was absolutely _stunning_, Draco! You look so much like her," she couldn't help gushing.

The tiniest smirk touched the corner of his lips. "Mmph. Don't try to butter me up by stating the obvious, Granger." He turned towards the spiral staircase. "Come on, let's get going," he said as he began to ascend the stairs.

He was still being rather brusque with her, but at least that tiny smirk showed the beginnings of a crack in his armor. She took another big sip of her mug of cider (_mmm…scrumptious_), let out a deep breath and began to follow him up the stairs.

Draco led her through a series of corridors until they finally reached a set of large oak doors. "We'll stick you in the Red Room," he said, opening the door. "That ought to make you feel right at home." His tone was sardonic as he stepped aside to give her a good view of the room.

Hermione gasped at the sumptuousness of the quarters. The room was decorated primarily in a rich wine-colored velvet (_hence the name, Red Room,_ she realized) and the four-poster bed was one of the largest she'd ever seen. It was also covered in about 50 pillows and the bed was turned down to reveal pristine white satin sheets. There was also a huge bay window with a seat (_perfect for reading,_ Hermione thought) with flowing tasseled panels that reached from the high ceiling to the floor.

"Does it meet with your satisfaction?" he asked her in a mocking tone.

"Of course it does…" she said in wonder as she gazed about the room. Draco was watching her with an odd expression on his face. _Time to clear the air a bit,_ she realized. First she turned to set her now empty mug of cider on a nearby end table.

"Draco," she began, turning back to him, "I'm so sorry I upset you, but I just couldn't stand to abandon you to your parents at such a…difficult time. I only did it out of caring for you."

He was still glowering at her, but perhaps not as harshly as before.

"I _love_ you, Draco."

He looked away from her and shifted his feet awkwardly.

_Please don't be angry…_ She took a step closer to him and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Draco?" she ventured in a small voice.

"Dammit, Granger!" he burst out, and with a quick forward movement he tumbled the both of them onto the huge bed and began kissing her furiously.

Hermione sighed and began to return his kisses with enthusiasm. Then when she felt his hand sliding over her hip and creeping towards her bum she realized with a jolt just where she was. _Great Merlin, Draco is laying on top of me on a BED…_ With a gasp, she rolled out from underneath him.

Draco rolled over onto his back, letting out a frustrated sigh as he stared up at the canopy of the bed. "Granger," he said in a tight voice, "you're going to be the death of me."

"I really _am_ sorry, Draco."

He rolled onto his side and gave her a wicked grin. "Well…feel free to make it up to me," he drawled, patting the space right next to him on the bed.

Hermione bit back a smile and sat up. "Oh no, you don't."

"Bugger."

In an attempt to steer his mind away from its current focus, she asked, "So, does your family dress for dinner? At my home it's a casual affair, but something tells me that here it must be…_different_," she finished lamely.

He turned onto his back and stretched. "Fancy dress costume," he murmured as he folded his hands behind his head.

"_WHAT?"_

He looked over at her with a scornful expression. "You heard me. Fancy dress costume, Malfoy tradition. We used to have a decent sized dinner party, but since the beginning of the War, Mum started getting really careful about who she invited…" he trailed off. Hermione was staring at him wide-eyed, which made him smirk in amusement. "It's Halloween, Granger, don't tell me you didn't bring a costume."

"Merlin, no…I didn't even think about that…" she bit her lip_. This is going to make me look even more unfavorable to his parents if I don't come up with something really quick… _

"We could do a hair-growing charm on you and you could go as Lady Godiva," he drawled with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows.

"No…I'll come up with something…I'll _have_ to. How much time do I have until dinner?" she asked, looking around wildly.

"A couple of hours."

"Okay…I should be able to have something ready by then…" she leapt off of the bed, pulled out her wand and began to search about the room. Draco was still on the bed, watching her with a bemused look on his face.

"Draco! Why are you still here? Get out—I have a lot of work to do!"

Draco scowled and climbed off the bed. "Okay, okay, don't go all ballistic. I owe my Mum a chess game, anyway…" He headed towards the door and as he passed her, he took a light smack at her bum. Hermione was so preoccupied that she didn't even react.

"Later, Granger…can't wait to see what you'll come up with." And with one last smirk, Draco closed the door behind him.

_What I'll come up with…Merlin's Pants…WHAT am I going to do now? _


	10. The Bishop

Chapter 10—The Bishop

Draco made a point to stop at his room to pick the ivory king out of his overnight bag and stuff it into his pocket on his way to the library. He toyed with the idea of engraving either _King Draco_ or _Dragon Majesty_ across the piece to add insult to injury, but being as it was a Malfoy family heirloom, he figured that it wouldn't go over very well. Besides, he was going to have enough to deal with explaining Hermione's presence at the Manor.

Finally, he made it to the library, which was dimly lit with a few strategically placed candelabras. Even though the lighting was not the best, Draco had always found the library to be the least dismal of all of the rooms at the Manor, mainly because he had always associated the library with wizard's chess, and as a result, a Narcissa Malfoy who occasionally allowed her cold mask to slip while she antagonized him over a chess board.

His mother was already seated at her usual place, occupied with arranging the pieces on the board. Draco headed over to the seat opposite from hers, passing an end table with Narcissa's crystal vase filled with Hermione's gift of paperwhites. He paused for a brief moment to glance at the fragrant white blossoms; then quickly strode over to his usual place when he felt his mother's frigid stare on him.

As he pulled out the armchair, Narcissa wasted no time. "Did you tell that girl those were my favorite flowers?" she demanded. "I will _not _be manipulated into liking this…_muggleborn_, Draco!"

You're _the_ _one to talk about manipulation, Mum._ "I didn't tell her a bloody thing," he snapped as he lowered himself into the chair on the other side of the chess board. "I didn't even know she was coming."

"Then why _did_ she come?" Narcissa pressed, her challenging tone belying the nonchalant manner in which she was arranging the chess pieces into their proper positions.

Draco shrugged, not looking at her. He really didn't want to get into that. He still wasn't thrilled that Hermione had shown up at the Manor, and didn't need to be reminded of the fact that his parents found her to be a wholly unwelcome presence there. "Because she's a stubborn Gryffindor," he grumbled without thinking.

"_Gryffindor?_" Narcissa exclaimed. He finally looked up at her and the distasteful expression on Narcissa Malfoy's face looked as if she had just been told that her home was going to be turned into a muggle museum.

_Bollockov. THAT was the wrong thing to say._

Narcissa's gaze narrowed upon his face. "I don't know if I believe you, Draco. I mean, a _mudblood_, really! And a Gryffindor, no less!" she cried in exasperation. "How could you?"

Draco felt his hands clench into fists underneath the table. He looked up at her with cold eyes. "You act as if I did this solely to piss you off," he said in a terse voice.

Narcissa glared right back at him. "Didn't you?" she retorted.

Draco sat back in his seat and ran an irritated hand through his hair. "What the hell kind of question is that?"

"Draco, _language…_"

"Merlin's salty ball sa—"

"Draco!" Narcissa looked momentarily scandalized. Then, composing herself, she cleared her throat and gave a pointed glance to the vacant space in front of her. "I believe that you have something that belongs to me."

Draco took her cue that it was time to change the subject. He took a deep breath and allowed a tiny smirk to play across his lips as he reached into his pocket and took out the ivory king. Placing it in its proper position he said wickedly, "Get a good look at him while you can, Mum."

Narcissa raised her eyebrows in challenge. "I hope you enjoyed His Majesty while you had him, Draco. Because that was _most_ _definitely_ a once in a lifetime opportunity."

"Says you. I tend to think of it as the dawning of a new era."

"It'll be the shortest lived era in history, son." Narcissa said in a smug tone as she reached out and moved one of her pawns forward.

Draco leaned back in his chair and folded his hands behind his head, characteristic smirk now firmly in place. "We'll see about that."

The game had begun.

About an hour and a half later, Narcissa declared that they would have to take a break in the game due to the fact that they both had to dress for dinner. Draco was glad for the break. Although he was enjoying the challenging game (Narcissa was ahead of him in the conquered piece count by three), the pressure of maintaining a cool head while his mother managed to occasionally slip in searching questions and barbed remarks about Hermione was becoming quite tedious.

When he got back to his room, his costume had already been laid out for him on the bed. It was an old-fashioned white silk shirt, black waistcoat, black slacks with a sash for the waist, and a black cape. Draco inspected it with mild curiosity. Every year his costume was chosen for him and he had absolutely no say in the matter—not that he cared all that much, as long as the costume wasn't overly sissified. Of course, if it had been, he would have found a way to alter it somehow.

Looking over the clothing, he found the workmanship to be superb. But what exactly _was_ it? After closer inspection, he realized that the cape was a vampire's cape…he hadn't initially recognized it because it was based on a nearly 200 year old design. _A Victorian vampire, eh? Hmmm…not too shabby. I guess I can do this,_ he thought, laying the cape back on the bed. Then he noticed a box lying next to the costume on the bed. It was owl post, addressed to him from _Weasley Wizard Wheezes II, Hogsmeade_. George Weasley had wasted no time in retaliating to Draco's last package. _Heh heh…bet that ruddy ear is STILL running all about that bloody git's store,_ he thought, smirking, as he reached for the box and tore open the wrapping. Carefully lifting the lid, he peered into the box suspiciously, not wanting to get too close at first.

_What in the bloody hell?_

There didn't seem to be _anything_ in the box, at least not from what Draco could ascertain. After several cautious peeks under the lid, he still came up with nothing. Finally, he practically stuck his entire head in the box, searching for a clue, but was rewarded with nothing other than a brief puff of smoke in his face. _That's it? The bloody clot seems to have mailed me a dud,_ he thought, bemused. Perhaps George Weasley had started to come up with some sort of prank spell to mail to Draco, and had accidentally sent out the box before he had had a chance to finish it. _I think this means that I may have won by default_, Draco smirked to himself. _Wait'll I get to Hogsmeade and rub it in the Holey Herbert's face…_

KNOCK, KNOCK.

"What?" Draco called out grumpily, rubbing the last bits of smoke out of his eyes. They itched a bit, but other than that, there was no side-effect as far as he could see.

"It's me," Hermione's voice carried through the door.

He immediately got up and went over to the door and yanked it open. "So, Granger, how's the costume creation going?" he drawled, leaning up against the doorframe.

Hermione stared up at him, her mouth hanging open. "Er…well, I…"

He quirked an eyebrow at her. "Are you having that tough of a time?"

Hermione swallowed and stared at him for another moment, then shook herself and continued, "No; actually, I'm almost done…I, uh, was just wondering if you had a piece of gold I could use to transfigure into a…bracelet…"

She was pretty off balance, Draco realized. Maybe the pressure was getting to her already. "I probably have something," he said, heading back into his room. Hermione tentatively followed. He spied a gold chain lying on his bureau. "Here you go," he said as he turned, handing it to her.

Hermione hadn't even bothered to put her hand up to take it. She was still staring up at him with a very odd expression on her face.

"Granger, what is your problem? Did your mind snap or something?" he demanded.

"Uh…Draco, just what kind of a costume dinner is this? I mean, I think the costume that I'm working on might not exactly be appropriate, based on what _you're_ putting together."

"What do you mean, 'what I'm putting together'? What in buggeration are you talking about?"

"But your face…" She blinked; then furrowed her brow. "Draco, have you looked in the mirror lately?" she finished in dismay.

"Huh? What are you—" he dashed over to the mirror to see that his reflection was sporting a huge and dazzlingly long and thick set of eyelashes, inky black for emphasis. He blinked at himself in astonishment and was horrified to see that it looked as if he were batting his eyelashes coquettishly. _Merlin's bloody blue balls! I look like I have two acromantulas growing out of my face!_

_George Weasley is a DEAD MAN._

"Bugger me!" he shouted in aggravation. "What in the hell am I supposed to do now?"

Hermione let out a huge sigh of relief. "Thank Merlin. I thought that you had done that on purpose."

"Of course I didn't do this on purpose! Now help me get rid of the damn things!"

Hermione bit her lip. He suspected that she might have been trying not to laugh. "I don't know, Draco…George has a way of working a spell that will make it even worse if you try to disperse it before it wears off on its own…"

"You're not helping, Granger!"

"But his stuff usually _does_ wear off after about an hour," she reminded him.

"Dinner starts in 30 minutes!" he shot back.

Hermione tilted her head to the side and studied his face. "Well…maybe we could hide it," she suggested.

"Yeah, how?"

"Do you know what sunglasses are?"

"_What?"_ he asked, perplexed.

"Muggles use them. Here, I'll make you a pair…"

About a half an hour later, Draco was in full costume, critically checking himself in front of the mirror. _I can even make _these_ strange contraptions look good,_ he thought with a smirk, studying the sunglasses. _Not bad, not bad at all._ He decided that maybe muggles had an occasional good idea every now and then as he slowly lowered the glasses to the tip of his nose. His eyelashes were shrinking little by little, but at this point they were still rather full, prominent, and flamboyantly framed his silver-blue eyes. _Bugger me._ Draco grimaced and quickly pushed the sunglasses back into place with an irritated sigh.

Hermione had gone back to her room after transfiguring the sunglasses to add the finishing touches to her costume and arrange her hair, mumbling something about changing red to purple. _She had better be done by now, _he thought. _Dinner's about to start. _Sweeping his cape onto his shoulders, he left his room and headed over to her quarters.

Strolling up to the door, he gave a brief knock. "Yes?" came her voice, a bit startled, from within.

"You ready? It's seven o'clock," he called back, leaning indolently against the doorframe.

"Oh, yes…be right there," her voice was coming closer to the door, and then it opened.

Hermione was standing in the doorway wearing a white satin full-length Grecian gown, complete with tasseled shoulder clasps, swirling gold bracelets that wound about her upper arms, and a purple mantle that wrapped around her back and over her arms. Her hair was gathered half up and half down, the crazy curls spilling in a wild profusion down her back with one long curl draped over her shoulder. Violets and buttercups were intertwined all throughout the riotous mass and Draco found himself itching to twine his hands in her hair as well.

For a moment, he said nothing. She was a stunning Greek goddess.

"Do I look all right?" she asked, self-consciously arranging the folds of the gown.

The girl was bloody brilliant—a costume worthy of the finest ball made from scratch in less than two hours. Draco swallowed. "You'll do," he said, stepping forward and running a finger along her bare back. "Where'd you get the..?" he gestured to the gown.

Hermione smiled impishly. "The satin sheets on the bed. I'll charm them back when I'm done, but it _was_ for a good cause. This here," she said indicating the mantle about her shoulders, "is part of a table runner. I just changed the color to make it fit."

"Very nice," he said, sliding his finger further down her back.

She blushed and turned to face him, effectively keeping his hand from drifting even lower. "You look very handsome," she observed. "The sunglasses actually enhance the outfit, I think."

He smirked back at her. "I figure I'll say I'm a vampire at dusk, which is why I need these…what do you call them? Slades?"

Hermione bit back a smile. "That's _shades_, Draco."

"Whatever. Well, you ready to face the firing squad?"

Hermione's face drained of color.

Pushing his sunglasses further up his nose (they had begun to slide a bit), he took her hand. "Come on, Granger, you can't back down now. Especially in a gown like that," he said with a wicked grin.

Hermione managed a small, tart smile. "I suppose not," she answered, and together they headed off towards the grand dining hall.


	11. The King

Chapter 11—The King

As they made their way down to the grand dining hall, Hermione transferred her grip from Draco's hand to the crook of his arm. Although it looked more elegant, it wasn't her reason for the switch. It was mainly due to the fact that her palms were becoming so sweaty that she didn't want to saturate Draco's hand in her distress. She took a deep breath and forced herself to exhale slowly. _Calm down, Hermione…you can do this,_ she told herself. It wasn't like she had never met the Malfoys before…

_Hermione, Neville and Harry leaned back against the door that had just sealed behind them. Harry put his ear to the door, and Hermione leaned back as well, listening closely as Lucius Malfoy's voice roared from the other side:_

"_Leave Nott, _leave him, I say,_ the Dark Lord will not care for Nott's injuries as much as losing that prophecy—Jugson, come back here, we need to organize! We'll split into pairs and search, and don't forget, be gentle with Potter until we've got the prophecy, you can kill the others if necessary…"_

Hermione caught her breath and stopped walking. Draco, puzzled, turned to face her. "What is it?" he asked.

"I…I'm just a bit more nervous than I realized," she confessed.

Draco let out a slow breath and said in a careful voice, "Granger, you don't have to do this, you know. I've already had it out a bit with my Mum…I can handle it by myself. I always have before." His voice was gruff, but she could see the underlying concern lurking in his eyes.

She looked back at him and raised her chin. "No, I _do_ have to do this. Just as much for myself as I do for you. I'm ready now," she declared, again taking his arm.

They had reached the spiral staircase and began to descend. "Okay, it's _your_ funeral…at least you're dressed for it," he said in a mocking tone.

Hermione gave him a good-natured glare. "And at least you'll be properly accessorized at my services," she said playfully as she pulled off his sunglasses.

"Hey! I need those!" he cried, lunging at Hermione's hand, but she just managed to keep them out of his reach. She dashed down the remaining steps, giggling as Draco chased her, demanding the return of his glasses at the top of his voice.

At the foot of the staircase, Draco managed to seize her in a bear hug around the waist, shaking as she giggled even harder. "Granger, give them here!" he roared, as she got a close up view of his still quite ostentatiously prominent eyelashes and nearly screamed with laughter.

"Goddamit, Granger—"

"_What is that infernal racket?"_ a voice boomed from the adjoining hallway.

Hermione and Draco both froze in place. They had been half bent over with laughter and Draco's arms were still wrapped firmly around her waist. At the last second, Hermione managed to push Draco's sunglasses back onto his face with her one hand in a fluid, over-her-shoulder movement just before Lucius Malfoy appeared at the end of the hallway.

At the sight of his father, Draco straightened up so abruptly that Hermione thought she heard the vertebrae in her back crack. Draco's arms were still wrapped around her waist and belatedly, he realized this and snatched his hands away.

"Father," Draco said in a stiff tone, "you're home."

Lucius Malfoy stared at the two of them with such revulsion that Hermione felt her limbs grow cold. Unable to move or speak, she stared back at Draco's father wide-eyed as he took a few steps closer and turned his glare full blast onto his son.

"Thank you for stating the obvious, Draco," he said in a haughty tone. "And just _what_ is that ridiculous contraption on your face?"

Draco pushed the sunglasses more firmly into place and smirked as Hermione swallowed audibly. "Part of my costume," he said in an insolent tone. "You like?"

_How in the name of Merlin can he be so blasé in the face of such animosity?_ Hermione marveled as she looked back at Lucius Malfoy, who was looking at Draco with ill-concealed disapproval. "'Like' is most definitely _not_ a word that comes to mind," Lucius said, venom dripping from every word. "What are those preposterous things, anyway?"

"They're called…sunglashes."

Hermione very nearly corrected him, but managed to hold her tongue at the last moment.

"Sunglashes," Lucius repeated in disbelief. "And where in Salazar's name did you get an idea like _that_?"

Before he could get an answer, Lucius' eyes fell on to Hermione and his eyes narrowed with contempt. "Never mind," he said in a curt tone. "I have my suspicions."

Draco immediately looked over at Hermione. "Father, this is Hermione Granger," he said in an attempt to break the tension. "I guess you've been expecting her, according to Tooky…"

"Who in the bloody hell is Tooky?"

"Your house elf," Hermione supplied in a small voice.

"Oh yes," Lucius said dismissively. "Well, Miss Granger…_welcome_ to Malfoy Manor."

Hermione thought that she would have been hard pressed to hear a welcome that sounded even more insincere then Narcissa Malfoy's, but Lucius Malfoy's welcome made Narcissa's sound like a veritable greeting to a long-lost relative. She self-consciously twisted her hands in the folds of her gown. "Thank you, Mr. Malfoy," she managed.

Lucius turned away, ignoring her. "I spoke of another guest," he said to Draco. "They have not arrived yet, but I suggest that we all be in the dining hall when they _do_ arrive, in order to greet them properly." And with that, he turned on his heel and strode off down the hallway, his black silk cape swirling behind him.

_Great Merlin, that was painful,_ Hermione thought, as she stood frozen in place. _How in the world am I going to get through dinner?_

"Oi, Granger, you okay?"

Hermione continued to stare at the empty corridor that Lucius had disappeared into.

"Granger?"

_He looked at me as if I were the lowest, most repulsive—_

"_Draco!_" Hermione exclaimed as she jumped away from Draco's hand, which had firmly planted itself onto her bum. Draco smirked back at her.

"I thought that'd do the trick," he drawled with an evil grin.

Hemione scowled at him. "Something tells me that that's not the only reason you did it," she said in a tart voice. "And how can you be so…so _normal_ when they press you like that? I nearly fainted under the force of that glare," she confessed.

He shrugged. "I'm used to it," he said, tucking her hand once again into the crook of his arm. _So much for explanations,_ Hermione thought sourly. They took a few steps towards the corridor that led to the dining hall; then Draco stopped and turned to her. "Last chance to back out," he offered.

Hermione squared her shoulders. "No…I'm ready now. Let's do this."

Draco grimaced and they headed into the corridor as he muttered, "Stubborn, stubborn Gryffindor," under his breath.

Finally, they entered the dining hall and Hermione gasped at the lavishness and elegance of the great room. It was rather dark, as were all of the rooms at the Manor, with large antique candelabras placed to give off just enough light to create mystique, but not enough to invite warmth. The room was decorated in gold and jade-green and the long, grand table was draped in a silk shantung tablecloth, and set with gold-plated china. The one wall that faced the grounds was primarily all windows that reached from floor to ceiling, and the full moon was clearly in view. It afforded the strongest source of light in the room and the comforting silver-blue light caused Hermione to let out a slow breath. The color actually reminded her of Draco's eyes. As he led her over to a seat, she chanced a glimpse at his eyes, but they were still well hidden behind the sunglasses, which made her lips twitch as she stifled a giggle. _Ah yes, how could I forget?_ _Well, _she thought, _if _that's_ what it takes to get me through this dinner, then so be it._

Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy were standing at the head and foot of the table, respectively, waiting for Hermione and Draco to find their places before they all sat down. Neither Malfoy parent would even look at Hermione; rather they were both staring forward stoically, as if this were a form of torture for them that need be endured, but nothing more. Hermione took the opportunity to observe their costumes, which were just as exquisitely made as Draco's. Lucius Malfoy wore unrelieved black—his attire consisted of a frock coat with tails for evening, and a black silk shirt with an intricately tied black cravat at the throat. His long, white-blonde hair was pulled back rather severely from his face and tied into a leather club at the nape of his neck, making him look even more intimidating. Hermione shivered and her eyes flicked over to Draco's mother Narcissa, who was resplendent in an empire-waist satin gown in a shade of green so dark that it looked nearly black. Her long, fair hair was piled into an elaborate twist on her head, and crowned with an emerald and onyx tiara. Both Malfoys also wore vampire capes, identical to the one Draco had on.

_How very calculating,_ Hermione realized. _Everyone is dressed the same except me. As if I didn't already feel enough like an outsider._ She let out a slow breath and willed herself to relax. Then Lucius sat down and everyone else at the table followed suit.

Hermione took a silk napkin from the plate in front of her, marveling at how such a perfect piece of silk could be used for a _napkin_, and spread it across her lap. A voice from her right startled her out of her reverie.

"So, Miss Granger, what an…_interesting_ choice of attire." It was Narcissa Malfoy, who made the remark with just the right inflection to make Hermione feel like as if she were dressed appallingly wrong, even though the choice of words was completely neutral.

Hermione swallowed and resisted the urge to squirm. "Er…thank you, Mrs. Malfoy," she ventured, not knowing what else to say.

"Yeah, nice job, Granger," Draco drawled from across the table with a leer.

Narcissa turned her attention to her son. Hermione let out a puff of air in relief as she was no longer in the line of fire, albeit temporarily. "And just what are those ridiculous things on your face, Draco?" Narcissa demanded.

"Part of my improvement to the costume, Mum. Like I said…the dawning of a new era," he baited her.

Narcissa pressed her lips together in a thin line and Lucius muttered "_Insolence_," under his breath as he poured himself a glass of wine from a nearby carafe.

"Well, this new era looks quite bleak, son," Narcissa rejoined, wrinkling her nose.

Lucius smirked from behind his wine goblet.

Draco pushed his glasses a bit further up on the bridge of his nose and gave his mother a cocky smile, although Hermione noticed that the smile had a tightness around the mouth that she wasn't used to seeing.

Narcissa grimaced at Draco and then turned back on Hermione. "So, Miss Granger, what is it exactly that you are supposed to be, here…some sort of Greek goddess, I suppose?" she said in a patronizing tone.

Before she could answer, Lucius Malfoy broke in, "Persephone, it looks like," he clarified in a clipped tone, setting down his goblet but still not deigning to look at Hermione. "The goddess of spring…how very…_Gryffindor_ of a choice," he said derisively.

_All right, that's enough,_ Hermione thought, feeling her temper begin to rise. _Wolves in sheep's clothing…pretending to be the cultured hosts when they're really acting like a couple of narrow-minded bullies._

"That's true, Mr. Malfoy, but you're also forgetting that she became the Queen of the Underworld," she said in a challenging tone. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Draco's stiff smirk turn into a genuinely wicked grin.

Finally, Lucius looked directly at her and his eyes were full of such loathing that Hermione wanted to look away, but she forced herself to hold his gaze as she raised her chin in determination.

Their stare-down was interrupted by the entrance of Tooky the house elf. "Mr. Malfoy," she said, looking unsure of herself, "your guest is just arrived."

Lucius smiled a cold, satisfied smile and still looking at Hermione, said, "Excellent…send them in." Hermione stubbornly continued to maintain eye contact.

"Father, just _who_ is—"

"Hello, Draco, long time no see," a voice from above purred. Upon hearing the voice, Hermione narrowed her eyes. _I know that voice…but it _couldn't_ be… _Finally breaking eye contact with Lucius Malfoy, she slowly looked up in the direction the voice had come from.

It was Pansy Parkinson.


	12. Counterplay

Chapter 12—Counterplay

_Bugger me all to hell,_ Draco thought angrily, _Father's not wasting any time in trying to get rid of Hermione!_ For a moment, he was speechless as he stared up at Pansy in irritation. _I can't let them know that this unsettles me as much as it does, though, or they'll think that this little ploy of theirs is working._ Luckily, the sunglasses covered his eyes so it was easier for him to mask his expression. He stole a quick glance at Hermione, whose face had turned bright red and was looking at Pansy with ill-concealed outrage. Draco smirked. Hermione was not one to hide her emotions—she always wore her heart on her sleeve—and it was one of the things about her that he truly enjoyed because it was so different from anything that he had ever known. However, in this situation, it was _not_ the way to play.

"Draco, aren't you going to greet our guest?" Lucius prompted with an undercurrent of dry amusement in his tone.

Draco afforded Pansy a brief nod. "Parkinson," he said curtly as he reached for the carafe and poured himself a glass of wine, pointedly ignoring her. Draco knew that if there was one thing that Pansy Parkinson hated, it was being ignored.

"Draco, _manners_," Narcissa admonished. "Pansy, dear, do sit down," she added, motioning to Draco's side of the table.

"Thank you, Mrs. Malfoy. Oh, and mother says hello…" _Trying to mark your territory by making sure that Granger knows how well you know the family, eh, Parkinson? Still the manipulative bitch…surprise, surprise._

Pansy slowly sauntered over to the seat on the other side of Draco and made a big show of arranging her costume before she sat down. She was wearing an empire-waist gown of a similar style to Narcissa's, only in a deep wine-colored velvet, complete with vampire cape which meant that father had obviously been planning this visit for quite some time.

Draco glanced at Hermione, who looked ready to explode. He raised his eyebrows to her in a silent gesture. _Don't let her get to you, Granger, _he thought, silently willing Hermione to hear him. _It's what she wants. _

Hermione stared back at him and it was as if she actually could hear him. Her face subtly changed and she sat up higher in her seat, tilting her chin at a more determined angle. _That's my girl,_ Draco thought in appreciation. _Besides, Granger must not know just how hot she looks in that gown, otherwise she wouldn't let Pansy's presence bother her at all._

Pansy obviously wasn't too happy about the competition; she shot Hermione a poisoned glare and then turned to face Draco with a sly simper. "It's good to see you, love," she said in a low voice. "I've missed you."

"Is that so? Well, that's news to me," he said in a disinterested tone as he reached for his goblet and took a swig of wine. He caught Hermione's expression as he set down the glass and she had her lips pressed together as if she were trying to contain an amused smile.

"So, Pansy," Narcissa broke in, attempting to fill the awkward silence that followed, "how do you like attending Durmstrang?" Pansy had been escorted out of Hogwarts during the final battle, and had never been allowed back. Draco had tried writing to her for a while, but she had never answered any of his letters. As a result, he lost interest in anything that had to do with her. The fact that his father had brought her back in an attempt to combat the Hermione Situation showed just how desperate his parents were to not have him associate with a muggleborn.

"Oh, I love it there, Mrs. Malfoy! The education is quite superior to other schools…particularly ones that don't have much of an…_admissions policy_." At that last bit, Pansy shot Hermione a smug glare. The venom was definitely flowing tonight.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at Pansy and opened her mouth as if to say something, but was cut off by Draco's father.

"Draco had asked if he could attend Durmstrang just before he had received his Hogwarts letter…but Narcissa wouldn't hear of it," he added with a touch of annoyance on the last part.

Narcissa gave Lucius a frosty stare. "That's a closed issue, Lucius. There was _no way_ I would have tolerated Draco attending school so far from home."

"But perhaps he would have ended up in a better…_social circle_, my dear," he rejoined in a silky tone with a razor edge.

During his parents' volley, Pansy had been leaning closer and closer to Draco, trying to catch his eye. _You want my eye, Parkinson? All right, you asked for it…_ As his parents continued to squabble without making it look as if they were squabbling, Draco leaned towards Pansy and turned his gaze intently on her, giving her the patented Malfoy Look, his head tilted forward so his white blonde hair fell forward around his chiseled face, framing it perfectly. Pansy's eyes grew wide and her tongue moistened her lips in anticipation.

Slowly he lowered his sunglasses to the tip of his nose and fluttered his still prominent eyelashes at her audaciously.

The look on Pansy's face changed to horror as he quickly pushed the sunglasses back into place and smoothly turned back to his plate as if nothing had happened. Lucius and Narcissa were still caught up in their debate, so no one had even noticed.

Except Hermione. She was having a difficult time hiding her mirth, and was saved by Tooky appearing at her elbow with a tray of steaming spiced cider. "Happy Halloween, Miss Hermione! Woulds you like some more cider?"

Hermione smiled down at Tooky. "Why yes, Tooky, I believe I would!" she said as she enthusiastically plucked a mug from the little house elf's tray.

As Tooky went around the table proffering cider, Draco gave Hermione a mischievous smile. "Oi, Granger, if I were you, I'd make that my last cider of the evening. Too much of a good thing can really wreak havoc with your insides, if you know what I mean." Next to Draco, Pansy huffed in offense. It wasn't what he had said that had bothered her; it was that she was being ignored and was, as a result, getting quite miffed.

"_Draco!_" Narcissa exclaimed, scandalized. "One doesn't speak of such things at the table."

Lucius let out an irritable sigh and took another swig of wine.

Hermione was giving Draco a secret little smile from the other side of the table. For the first time, he appreciated having her there. In the midst of all of this mess, she was the only one who wasn't baiting him, reproaching him or disapproving of him. He raised his mug of cider to her in salute and took a sip. Setting the mug down with a satisfied _thunk_, he tucked a shining lock of white-blonde hair behind his ear that had fallen forward along his jawline.

Pansy obviously could no longer take Draco's cavalier behavior towards her, and began to lash out. "Well, Draco dear," she purred in a malicious tone, "it seems that you've really let yourself go in my absence. Can't make up your mind whether to wear your hair long or short? Or did you think that the shaggy look was in?"

Draco leaned back in his chair and gave Pansy a nasty smirk. _So that's the best you can do, Parkinson? Better luck next time,_ He snorted at her in amusement—he had had enough females sighing over his looks to know that his hair looked damned good no matter _what_ length it was. And now that it was a bit longer than the way he used to wear it, it got him even more attention.

Narcissa on the other hand, never liked hearing anyone else criticize her son outside of the family. She was giving Pansy a rather hard look, but it was Hermione that jumped to his defense.

"I think Draco looks splendid no matter what way he decides to wear his hair. He's _always_ handsome to me," Hermione said sincerely, smiling at Draco. Lucius grimaced at the sound of Hermione's voice and filled his glass with more wine, but Narcissa was staring at Hermione with a curious and puzzled look on her face. Such refreshing candor was definitely a rarity, if not totally unknown, at the Malfoy table.

"You _would_ say that…an underling like you wouldn't know any better!" Pansy burst out snappily.

"I know a great deal more than _you_, Pansy Parkinson!"

Draco stole a look at his mother, who was looking back and forth between the two girls, bewildered.

"_Silence!_" Lucius boomed from the head of the table. Everyone at the table jumped, then immediately directed their attention to their plates.

After a moment, Narcissa's voice broke into the silence. "Well, son, I believe that you have another appointment with me later this evening for your impending demise."

"You mean _your_ impending demise, Mum," he immediately retaliated. Hermione, not able to follow the exchange, looked confused. Pansy immediately noticed and took the opportunity to unleash some more venom.

"You don't know what they're talking about, do you?" she said smugly to Hermione. "Well, _I_ do. They—"

"Draco and I have been playing each other in wizard's chess since he was seven years old."

Draco looked up at his mother, flabbergasted. It was the first time that she had spoken to Hermione without any malicious intent.

Hermione noticed as well and flushed pink with pleasure. "What a wonderful tradition."

Lucius slammed his now empty wine goblet down on to the table and sent Narcissa a pointed glare. Narcissa stared back at him for a moment, then sighed and lowered her gaze and began to pick at her plate.

_That figures,_ Draco thought, rolling his eyes. _She always folds when it comes to Father._ Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Pansy attempting to catch his eye once more. He let out a slow, exasperated breath. _Merlin's balls._ _This is going to be one LONG weekend..._


	13. En Passant

Chapter 13— En Passant

After what felt like years to Hermione, dinner finally ended. At first, she had worried that Draco would get forced into showing Pansy to her guest room (Hermione didn't trust that prancing, pestering, pug-faced Pansy Parkinson one bit), but for some reason, Narcissa delegated the job to the house elf Tooky instead. Pansy looked quite put out by this, but for once, held her tongue, storming off in the direction of the guest quarters in Tooky's wake.

As Draco came by Hermione's seat to walk her back to her room, she finally let out a slow, shaky breath. This dinner had been difficult, but she had managed to get through it. _Only two more days to go, _she thought, trying to be optimistic, although it was difficult to do when she spotted Lucius Malfoy glowering at her out of the corner of her eye. When she stood up and placed her hand once more in the crook of Draco's arm, Lucius shot the two of them an icy glare, then turned on his heel and left the dining hall. Draco stopped for a moment and stared off in the direction in which his father had stormed off, and his face became hard. Narcissa had quietly left the room after Pansy had left, so at this point it was just Hermione and Draco remaining in the hall.

"Draco?" Hermione ventured. The hard look made Draco resemble his father more and as a result, it made Hermione tread more carefully with him.

Her voice seemed to startle Draco out of his train of thought. He looked down at her, almost confused, then began to relax. "Granger," he said, his face going back to a much more customary indolent smirk, "so how did you enjoy this _fabulous_ dinner?"

Hermione couldn't help smiling in response. "It was definitely worth the trip, Draco! I have _no_ idea why you were so resistant to me coming here, when we've all had such a lovely time!"

Draco snorted and pulled her in for a steamy kiss. She felt her knees grow weak and she had to cling to him tightly in order to maintain her balance. "Granger," he murmured in her ear, "do you have any idea how _hot_ you look in that gown?"

His words, coupled with the kisses to her neck made her shiver with delight. His effect on her was downright dangerous at times, and her resistance was crumbling. As his hands began to roam a little too liberally, Hermione played the one card she had left in terms of her defense; she pulled off his sunglasses.

"Dammit, Granger!" he burst out in frustration.

Hermione began to giggle, then stopped as she got a good view of his face. His eyelashes were finally back to normal. "Draco," she cried, "your eyelashes!"

"Yeah, yeah, I know, very funny, ha ha…"

"No, love, they're back to normal!"

"They are?" Draco rushed over to a mirror on a nearby wall. Looking at his reflection with satisfaction, he sighed with relief. "Thank Merlin! I was afraid I was going to end up getting used to those blasted things." He then looked at his hair critically and ran a hand through it. "What do you think, time to cut it?" he asked, still staring at his reflection.

"Draco, are you going to let that pug-faced Pansy get to you? You know your hair looks just fine! If it means anything to you, I really _like_ it that way," she added shyly.

He raised a mischievous eyebrow at her and started moving back to her side. "Is that so?"

She felt her face growing hot. "Yes, that's so." _Oh my._ He was now standing right in front of her and his hands were starting to snake up into her hair as he began to pull her in for another snog.

"Master Draco, Mistress Narcissa says you is to meet her in the library for chess!"

Hermione felt Draco's hands tighten on her scalp in irritation. His eyes narrowed and he turned to the little house elf with a look of malicious intent, but Hermione laid her hands on top of his and said entreatingly, "_Draco_…"

He rolled his eyes. "Yeah…er, _thanks_, Tooky…I'll be right there," he managed in a tight voice.

"You is very welcome, Master Draco!" Tooky replied, beaming. Then she disapparated with a CRACK.

Hermione squeezed his hand. "You'd better go."

"I know, I know…_bugger_…"

"Good luck at chess," she said and leaned in to give him one last kiss on the cheek.

He smirked back at her and ran a thumb across her lower lip. "I don't need any luck. Remember, the dawning of a new era," And with that, he released her and swept off towards the library.

Hermione smiled after him, then began to head back towards her room. She climbed the spiral staircase and after several minutes of wandering about several long corridors, she realized that she was lost. _Oh bother,_ she thought, biting her lip. _Why does this house have to be so big?_

Just then, a figure stepped out of the shadows. "And just what do you think you're doing out by _my_ room?" Pansy accused. "Are you trying to spy on me?"

Hermione scowled at the sullen girl. "You would think that, Pansy, because it's just the type of thing a sneaky Slytherin like _you_ would do!"

Pansy placed her hands on her hips in a challenging stance. "Interesting choice of words, Gryffindork," she sneered. _Gryffindork,_ Hermione realized with a jolt, _how many times have I heard Draco use that word?_

"Anyway," Pansy continued, "if that's how you really feel about Slytherins, than you've got a problem, mudblood!" At the use of the word _mudblood_, Hermione felt her fists tighten.

"And why is that?" Hermione asked, wary.

"Because Draco IS a Slytherin! Which means that he's got a _lot_ more in common with me than he does with you! You don't fit into his world—his parents can't even stand the fact that you're here! You two might be all fine and dandy at Hogwarts where your biggest concern is studying until your eyeballs fall out, but in the real world, this…this _fling_ of yours can't possibly work! It's only a matter of time before he tires of you and it's bye-bye bookworm!"

Pansy had hit a nerve—Hermione already felt more out of place at the Malfoy Manor than anywhere else in her entire life, and she was still rattled from the tense dinner that had just passed. This was the very last thing she needed to be hearing at the moment, but she wasn't about to let Pansy Parkinson know that.

"That's not true!" Hermione shot back, sounding more confident than she felt.

Pansy gave her a condescending smirk. "Oh? Well, we'll just see about that! And I have the _whole_ weekend to prove my point!" And she turned and sauntered back to her room and closed the door with a SLAM.

_Wonderful. Now I not only have to worry about being flayed alive by Draco's parents at every turn, I'm going to have this pug-faced ex-girlfriend of his in my face for the next two days. At least Draco wouldn't even give her the time of day at dinner,_ she thought with a smile.

She began to head down the corridor, pondering the situation, when she suddenly remembered…

_Can't make up your mind whether to wear your hair long or short? Or did you think that the shaggy look was in?"_ Pansy's sharp voice rang in her head.

"_What do you think, time to cut it?" Draco had asked, still staring at his reflection._

"_Draco, are you going to let that pug-faced Pansy get to you?"_

Did Pansy have more an effect on Draco than had appeared on the surface? They _had_ been together for quite a long time. Hermione frowned in consternation.

"Miss Hermione! What is you doing all the way out here? I was just on the way to your room with some more sheets because your old ones is gone!"

Hermione jumped at the sound of Tooky's voice and greeted her with a tiny smile. "Oh, thank you so much, Tooky," she said, distracted.

"Miss Hermione, is you all right?" Tooky was looking at her with concern.

Hermione plastered a bright smile on her face—there was no sense to worry the little house elf with her problems. "I'm just fine, Tooky, but I am lost…could you please show me back to the Red Room?"

"Oh, is that all! You follow me, Miss Hermione, and can I gets you a snack or something before you turns in?"

"No, no, Tooky, I'm just fine…"

About an hour later, Hermione had managed to charm her costume back into the satin sheets and table runner that it had been in its former life. After changing into her oldest, favorite pair of flannel pajamas, she settled herself into the large window seat and cracked open her copy of _A Study of Wizarding Genealogies of Great Britain._ She ought to be able to finish it by tonight…

"Geez, Granger, you might as well have a book permanently attached to that pert little nose of yours," a voice drawled from behind her. Hermione almost fell out of the window seat.

"How…how did you get in here? I didn't hear you knock!" she gasped, holding the large book up in front of her like a shield.

Draco strolled closer to where she was seated. He was still wearing his costume, sans cape with the white shirt collar dangling open to about the base of his sternum. The sunglasses were now pushed up to the top of his head. _Oh my goodness, he is so handsome,_ Hermione couldn't help thinking.

"I know every secret passage in this damn house," he said as he leaned in closer and smirked at her. "Nice jammies, Head Girl."

Hermione's eyes grew wide and she pressed the book even closer to her chest. "Draco! You can't be in here _now_…your parents hate me enough as it is! I'm not going to give them any more reason to find me…_unsuitable_," she finished bitterly.

"Hey, Granger, relax…they have no way of knowing that I'm here," he said as he leaned in for a kiss. Hermione sighed and fervently kissed him back; sometimes he was just too hard for her to resist.

Just then a knock sounded on the door. "Master Draco?" Tooky's voice was carrying from the other side of the door. "I know you is in there, and Mister Lucius is asking for you. I don't think you wants him to find you in _here_, do you?"

"Bollockov!" Draco burst out as he let go of Hermione. "I gotta go," he said with a grimace.

Hermione nodded and sighed a bit in relief. _It's probably for the best…after all, we shouldn't be in here, alone, with the bed and…oh dear… _She felt her face turning bright red.

On his way out the door, Hermione could hear Tooky addressing Draco once again, this time in a very reluctant tone. "Oh, and Master Draco, Miss Parkinson said to gives you this…" She handed Draco a note.

Hermione felt her temper starting to rise_. I do __**not**__ like this,_ she thought, simmering. _I do not like this AT ALL._


	14. Bind

Chapter 14—Bind

Draco rolled his eyes as he took the note from Tooky. _This bloody bitch has got some nerve trying to send me a letter after I sent her at least three letters that she never even bothered to answer._ As he followed Tooky down the corridor, he began to stuff the note into his pocket, then stopped and tore the letter open with a frustrated sigh.

_Draco baby,_

_Because we've had so much fun with it in the past, I just wanted to make sure you knew which room I was in (the Green Room) so you could sneak in for a private visit later on tonight. I __promise__ that it'll be worth your while._

_Pansy_

Draco stared at the letter for a moment. _Is she out of her mind?_ he thought, seething in anger. _I haven't had any contact with this girl in almost a year, and she thinks we're just going to pick up where we left off because that's what _she_ wants?_ _Not in a million years… _Annoyed, he crumpled up the letter and tossed it over his shoulder as he continued to follow Tooky down the hall to his father's study. His anger at Pansy was fueling his bravado which was a good thing, considering that his father seemed to be in one hell of a mood over the whole Hermione Situation. This was _not_ going to be an easy meeting.

Tooky stopped in front of the door and looked up at him. "Good luck, Master Draco," she said, lines of worry etched into her wizened little face.

_This strange little elf is actually on my side_. Surprised, he smirked down at her. "Er, thanks…I'll need it," he said in a wry tone, sliding his sunglasses off of the top of his head and back down over his eyes with a tiny, but wicked grin. _If I'm headed for slaughter, might as well make it quick. _Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he strolled through the door and into his father's study.

His father was seated in a large leather armchair, staring at the fireplace with a brooding expression. Without looking up, he said in a flat voice, "Have a seat, Draco."

Draco took the chair opposite his father and leaned back in it in a carefully practiced show of aristocratic ennui, even though he was feeling quite tense. However, the more weakness he showed to his father, the more likely he was to be attacked. Draco had learned early on that his best form of self-preservation was to never let either parent see that they had gotten to him. The snarkier he was, the better his chances were at getting his way. He sprawled his long legs out in front of him and propped his chin onto a fist in as blasé a manner as he could manage.

Slowly, his father turned his eyes away from the fire and rested them on his son. He stared at Draco for a moment, expressionless, and then the touches of a distasteful grimace played across the elder Malfoy's face. "Take," he said, in a biting tone, "those _ridiculous_ muggle things off of your face. I'd like to see my son's eyes when I am speaking to him."

Draco lifted his chin off of his fist and used that hand to slide the sunglasses up to the top of his head with a cheeky smirk.

Lucius narrowed his eyes at Draco's expression. "Think this is funny, do you?" he challenged as he rose out of his chair. He took a few steps closer to the fireplace and stared at the flames for a moment, then looked back at his son with irritation. "I see nothing funny about the matter."

Draco sighed and looked away. "If you want to make _that_ big a deal about it, then I suppose not."

"_What_ did you say?"

Draco looked up at his father, resolute. "That it's not that big of a deal, father."

"Draco Malfoy," Lucius began in a low, controlled voice, "this is a _very_ big deal. A very big deal indeed, no matter how much you may want to delude yourself otherwise."

"And why is that?"

"Because no Malfoy has _ever_ been with any witch or wizard unless they were a pureblood! If you wanted a mindless fling, we could have sent you to Beauxbatons Academy and you could have found yourself some forbidden fruit there. Why on earth would you _deliberately_ choose the most tainted mudblood that you could possibly find?"

And there it was. At least his father didn't waste any time coming to the crux of the matter.

Draco scowled at his feet for a moment. How could he possibly explain to his father what had happened between him and Hermione? All his father saw when he looked at Hermione was "dirty blood". He would never be able to see what Draco saw: the most stubborn, infuriating, brilliant, caring, sweetest witch he had ever met. Hell, _Draco_ hadn't even been able to see Hermione in that way, at least not for years and years. It had taken surviving a War in order to get him to open his eyes enough to even have a civil conversation with her, because before that he had been such a victim of his upbringing that he never bothered looking at Hermione with anything less than utter contempt. Then, when he had returned to school still damaged from the aftereffects of the War, she had been the only one who seemed to understand him, having been on the front lines of the War herself. And slowly he began to realize that she was one of the few people around that was actually worth talking to.

But his father had always cared more for image than substance, and Hermione most definitely did not meet the pureblooded, patrician image that Lucius Malfoy demanded.

"It just sort of…_happened_, is all." _Nice going, Draco,_ he berated himself. _That'll convince him,_ _all right._

Lucius let out a puff of breath in exasperation. "Son," he replied, "I can understand a momentary slip from time to time—what man _doesn't_ have a skeleton in his closet—but _this_…" he shook his head. "Bringing that girl here gives the impression that you're actually…_serious_ about her." His change in tone—less accusatory, almost sympathetic— indicated an abrupt change in tactics. _If one method doesn't work, immediately discard and try another_…typical Malfoy Rule of Conduct.

Draco wasn't sure how much he should reveal just yet. If he let on that he and Hermione were pretty serious, it would not bode well at all for her for the rest of the weekend. His parents would most likely double their efforts to alienate her in an attempt to break up the relationship. Besides, just how serious _were_ he and Hermione as a couple? They had been dating for almost three months now, whereas he had dated Pansy steadily for over two years. Of course, anything he had felt for Pansy had barely scratched the surface in terms of the way he now felt about Hermione, but still…

At this point, Draco just wanted to get out of this conversation as quickly as possible so he employed another Malfoy Rule of Conduct: _Avoid, avoid, avoid in whatever way you can, lie if you have to. _"Oh, _right_," he said, as if he could see his father's point, although nothing could be further from the truth. "Well, I'll just have to deal with that, I guess."

Lucius' face lost its glacial quality, shifting to a satisfied, yet firm look. "I expect you'll know how to handle that, son," he said pointedly.

"Oh yeah…I know _exactly_ what to do." _I'll start off with sneaking back into Granger's room…who knows, she might even be in bed by now._

His father nodded in approval. "Good. Now off to bed with you." _Great idea, father._

Draco turned and left the study as quickly as possible, before his father decided to add anything else to his list of conditions_. If I can just get him to leave Hermione alone until I can convince him or Mum that being with her is not the bloody end of the world._ Although Draco was beginning to realize that it would only be possible to convince someone who was open to the idea of being convinced, of which his father most definitely was not.

Deciding not to dwell on that train of thought, Draco started to head back towards the Red Room, entertaining himself with the idea of Hermione being already asleep in her bed, so she wouldn't even notice at first if he snuck back in and decided to—

"Hey, baby," he heard a voice simper from behind him.

_Buggeration. I forgot that this route takes me past the Green Room._ He turned, employing the same icy stare that Lucius had been subjecting him to so much lately. "What?" he asked in a hard tone.

Pansy sauntered up to him with a suggestive smile, stopping about a hand's length away from him. She was still wearing her red velvet gown, although he noticed that the laces on the neckline were strategically loosened, and her glossy, straight, chin-length black hair fell back from her face in silky tendrils. She had obviously been preparing for this. "I've been waiting for you…what took you so long?" she breathed, leaning in to him even closer and allowing the neckline of her gown to gap forward as she pressed her chest up against his.

Draco glanced down in indifference at Pansy's display of cleavage and sighed. He was becoming accustomed to the fact that Hermione had ruined him for other girls. It had been quite an adjustment period for him; he, who could have (and often did have) any girl that he wanted, had to come to terms with the fact that he now had a full-fledged Granger Addiction, and no one else was going to be able to satisfy the craving.

"What took me so long?" he shot back at her, leaning away from her renegade breasts. "The fact that I had _no_ intention of coming to your room in the first place, that's what!" He had very little patience left for Pansy and for the entire situation in general, for that matter.

Pansy laid her hands on his chest. "Oh, playing hard to get, are we? We'll see how long that lasts if I do this…" she began to snake her arms around his neck to pull him closer, but when her one hand went up and pulled the offending sunglasses off of the top of his head, he turned away from her in annoyance.

"Dammit, Pansy, I'm _not_ interested, okay?"

"Since when?" she asked, incredulous.

"Since you stopped answering my letters. Since I didn't hear a damn thing from you for practically a year, for Merlin's sakes!"

Pansy pursed her lips and gave him a coy smile. "Oh, I see…you're right, Drakie, I shouldn't have done that. But I have _every_ intention of making it up to you, love," the invitation in her voice couldn't have been any clearer.

He snorted at her in disbelief. The girl just didn't get it. "No thanks," he said in an ungracious tone and he turned away from her once more. "Save it for somebody who's desperate."

"Draco Malfoy! How _dare_ you prefer that…that _mudblood_ over me?" she cried, tossing his sunglasses to the floor in petulance.

Draco had heard that word applied to Hermione one too many times today. He whirled on Pansy and pushed her roughly against the wall. "I don't ever want to hear that word out of your bitchy little mouth again, Parkinson, got it?" he demanded. Pansy didn't answer—she was looking up at him with heat in her eyes and her lips were parted in excitement. _This is one messed-up bird,_ Draco thought with distaste. Releasing her, he turned and began to head back towards his own rooms. He was thoroughly fed up and starting to get a headache from all of the pureblooded drama. Maybe if he went to sleep and woke up after about 10 hours this nightmare of a Halloween weekend would be nothing but a faint memory.

"You'll be sorry for this, Draco Malfoy! _Nobody_ rejects me and gets away with it!" Pansy was shrieking after him.

_Yeah, yeah…I'm really terrified, Parkinson. I'm sure that threat will keep me up for a whole 30 seconds with worry_, he thought, already yawning as he turned the corridor that led to his rooms.


	15. Decoy

Chapter 15—Decoy

Hermione woke up in a very uncomfortable position, mainly due to the fact that she had fallen asleep in the window seat, reading. As she sat up and rubbed at a crick in her neck, she glanced down at _A Study of Wizarding Genealogies_ _of Great Britain_, the book that she had been unable to put down because she had come across some very telling information in it about the Malfoy family. The book had fallen open to a page with a particularly informative entry about Brutus Malfoy, an ancestor of the Malfoys who had been the editor of an anti-Muggle periodical called_ Warlock at War;_ it even included an excerpt from one of the periodical's editorials that had been published back in 1679:

_This we may state with certainty: Any wizard who shows fondness for the society of Muggles is of low intelligence, with magic so feeble and pitiful that he can only feel superior if surrounded by Muggle pig-men. _

_Nothing is a surer sign of weak magic than a weakness for non-magical company._

Hermione reread the passage once more and sighed. _Maybe it _is_ a hopeless case,_ she thought. _The Malfoy family has been a Muggle-hating family of purebloods for centuries…how can I possibly expect to overcome conditioning like that?_ It was nothing short of a miracle that Draco had been able to see her as something other than a "filthy little mudblood". Maybe that would have to be enough, although she had been so excited when she thought that Draco's parents were trying to see past their prejudices when they had extended an invite to the Manor. She could now see the invitation for what it was: an opportunity for them to show her just how unsuitable she was for the Malfoy heir, and to drive her off. Despondent, she climbed out of the window seat and headed into the washroom to get ready for another day of mudblood vs. purebloods.

A short while later, Hermione decided to head down to the kitchens to find Tooky to see if she could get another mug of spiced cider. So far, the cider was the best part about her stay at the Manor…well, that and having Draco in such close proximity, of course. She blushed when she thought about him sneaking into her room last night, just before he got called away to speak to his father. Knowing Draco, it was surprising that he hadn't tried to sneak back in her room afterwards, but perhaps he hadn't been in the best of moods once he had finished speaking with his father.

As she left her rooms, she looked about in consternation. _Merlin's pants, why does this house have to be so big? I have no idea how to get to the kitchens from here_. As she looked about for something familiar that might trigger a memory, she spied a crumpled piece of paper lying on the floor. Curious, she bent over to pick it up and slowly unfolded it.

It was the letter to Draco that Pansy had had the nerve to send last night. Hermione felt a fresh wave of anger wash over her as she read:

_I just wanted to make sure you knew which room I was in (the Green Room) so you could sneak in for a private visit maybe later on tonight. I __promise__ that it'll be worth your while._

Her hands began to shake with fury as she reread the note several times. _How dare she! How dare he! How dare THEY? Is _this_ why Draco didn't try to sneak back into my rooms last night? Wait a minute…calm down, Hermione. This letter has obviously been thrown away. And you _know_ that Draco no longer has the slightest bit of interest in Pansy…_

Then she remembered his momentary fuss over his hair:

"_What do you think, time to cut it?" Draco had asked, still staring at his reflection._

"_Draco, are you going to let that pug-faced Pansy get to you?_

Hermione shook her head to clear it. _That's ridiculous; Draco's just vain, he doesn't care about Pansy anymore. You're just being paranoid because all of the tension with his parents and it's making you hypersensitive. Get a grip, Hermione,_ she scolded herself. Yes, that was it. Draco had been downright rude to Pansy at dinner the night before, and Hermione had to admit that as much as she tried to give people the benefit of the doubt, it _had_ been nice to see Pansy get as riled as she did at Draco's obvious indifference towards her.

Smiling a bit at that thought, Hermione took a deep breath and headed off down the nearest corridor, determined to figure her way about in the large house. _I suppose if I get too lost, I'll run into Tooky sooner or later._ It would be a while before she would run into Draco; it was still early yet, and she knew he would be sleeping in—he was most definitely _not_ a morning person, she thought, smiling once more, this time in memory at Draco's customary surliness during breakfasts at Hogwarts.

As she continued down a wide corridor, she heard voices coming from a room and hastened towards the sound. _Maybe that's the kitchen,_ she thought hopefully as she approached.

"…that's _all_ he told you over practically two hours of chess? Cissa, I believe I may have gotten more out of him in our brief conversation in my study."

"Lucius, I was hoping that he would _volunteer_ the information; I didn't want to make demands."

"Why on earth not? He's our son!"

Hermione froze; then ducked back out of sight. If Draco's parents saw her now, they would most likely demand that she leave the Manor. It was bad enough that she was a mudblood, but an _eavesdropping_ mudblood? Biting her lip, she tried to decide whether she was more likely to get caught if she moved or if she remained where she was.

"Yes, but he's not a child any longer, Lucius—"

"But apparently he still needs plenty of guidance! Bringing that…that…_girl_ into our home as if she were an equal!" Hermione shivered at the animosity in Lucius Malfoy's voice. The new day had done nothing to cool his anger.

"He did say that he didn't even know that she was coming."

"Well, that is the bright spot in this entire debacle. He agreed with me that this…_relationship_ is more of a momentary slip and that he would be handling the situation properly."

Hermione nearly gasped and had to press a hand over her mouth to keep from making a sound. _He did what?_

"He did what?" Narcissa's words echoed Hermione's thoughts.

"His precise words were: '_I'll just have to deal with that, I guess.'" _Lucius sniffed. "I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. We'll see what he does—if he continues with this nonsense, I'll have to stop being so permissive and become more…_insistent_."

The underlying threat in his tone was unmistakable.

Hermione didn't wait to hear Narcissa Malfoy's response. No longer worrying about who might hear her, she stumbled down the corridor feeling the tears in her eyes threatening to spill over. '_I'll just have to deal with that, I guess?' Is THAT why he didn't want me to come here? Because what we have is nothing more than a "momentary slip" to him? _She felt as if she had just lost her last friend in the world and now she was totally alone in this muggleborn-hating house. The house that she was becoming lost in once again...

"Miss Hermione! What is you doing out here by the library?" Tooky's voice came from behind her. Hermione looked over her shoulder at the tiny elf and tried to smile. At least she had _one_ ally in this war zone of a home, she realized.Tooky took note of Hermione's teary-eyed visage and became wide-eyed. "Miss Hermione! What happened? Did that mean Miss Parkinson say somethings to you?"

Hermione felt the tears begin to slip down her cheeks at Tooky's show of sympathy. "No, Tooky, but Draco's parents hate me being here, and they seem to _love_ her being here, and I know for a fact that she tried to get Draco to v-visit her room last night…" she was rambling to the little elf, whose eyes had become even wider with each word Hermione uttered.

"Miss Hermione, I knows that Mister Lucius and Mistress Narcissa does not wants you here, but Master Draco _does__!"_

Hermione attempted to wipe the tears from her face. "I want to believe that, Tooky, but he told his father that I was a "momentary slip" and he was going to have to handle the situation."

"Where did you hears that?"

"I didn't mean to, but I overheard his father speaking about it."

Tooky shifted uncomfortably. "Miss Hermione," she said in a careful tone, "does you know that Master Draco will say _anything_ to satisfy his father? Are you sure he meants what Mister Lucius thinks he said?"

"I don't know, Tooky, I just don't know…"

"Well then, Miss Hermione, you needs to find out! You has to go talks to him before you gets too upset!"

Hermione gave a wan smile. "I'm already upset."

"Then you has to talks to him now! Come on, Miss Hermione, I'll takes you to his room…" Not knowing what else to do, Hermione allowed Tooky to drag her along to a massive set of oak doors. Facing the doors, Hermione watched as Tooky knocked twice, then waited.

A groan issued from the other side of the door. Hermione had been right; Draco hadn't even risen yet. She finally felt her ire rise at the fact that he should be sleeping so soundly while she was in turmoil and with typical Gryffindor nerve, she pushed the door open and strode past Tooky into the room.

"Miss Hermione! Master Draco is still…is…"

The commotion had caused Draco to sit up sharply in his bed. His platinum hair was sticking out from his head and his eyes were still glazed over with sleep. "Wha…what in the bloody hell?" he asked, his voice scratchy from disuse.

Hermione faced him with her hands on her hips. "Draco Malfoy! How _dare_ you tell your father that I am nothing but a "momentary slip" to you? I demand to know this instant if that's the way you really feel!"

"Dammit, Granger, have you gone all sixes and sevens? It's eight o'clock in the morning!"

"Pardon me for disturbing your beauty rest, but this is important and I need to know!" she shouted back at him.

"How did you find out about that, anyway?" he asked; then looked over at Tooky who was looking scandalized and narrowed his eyes at her.

"I saids _nothing_ about that Master Draco! Miss Hermione had heard Mister Lucius say it and she was believing its, so I saids she should come and talks to you first!" she squeaked in protest.

Draco hauled himself out of the bed and walked towards Hermione, his eyes zeroing in on her like silvery-blue beacons. She was beginning to regret her rash behavior, mainly because Draco slept in nothing but a pair of long, loose black silk pajama bottoms. _Oh my goodness,_ she thought as he stopped about an arm's length from her. "Granger, do you _really_ think that's how I feel about you?" he said in a low voice.

"But…but…he said…"

Draco sighed. "That's the way it is around here. This isn't a house full of Gryffindors who'll burst into your room at the crack of dawn and demand the truth," he said smirking at her.

Unable to stop a responding smile, she said, "Eight o'clock in the morning is a far cry from the crack of dawn, Draco."

"Says you. Anyway, if I told him how I actually felt it'd be a living hell for you here, Granger. What you saw last night would be tame in comparison."

Hermione tipped her chin up. "I could handle it," she insisted.

"Stubborn, stubborn Gryffindor," Draco shook his head in exasperation. "Will you just let _me_ handle it? Sometimes you can get your point across without shouting it at the top of your lungs all the time, you know. Sometimes a little…strategy is called for."

Hermione's brow furrowed. "Slytherin tactics?"

Draco shrugged, a smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth. "Call it what you will, but remember my parents are Slytherins, too."

"Then you really don't want me to go?"

"Granger, you must be the dumbest smart person I know," he said, leaning forward and touching his forehead to hers. "And if you leave me here alone with Parkinson the Sharkinson, I'll have to hunt you down and _Crucio_ you."

Hermione giggled in relief. "I suppose I'll have to stay, then."

Draco tilted his head and touched his lips to her ear. "Good. And being as you so conveniently came to my room…"

"Master Draco, can I gets you some tea before you gets washed up for breakfast?" Tooky's remark was half question, half pointed reminder that she wasn't about to leave the two of them alone. Hermione took a step back from him and felt her face grow red. Draco's jaw hardened but he was able to control himself enough to say in a stiff tone, "Okay, fine. Tea, then. Whatever."

Hermione smiled at his obvious pouting and said, "I'll go with Tooky to get your tea."

Draco was already heading towards the washroom. "Yeah, yeah…" he grumbled over his shoulder.

A half an hour later, Draco was dressed and ready and still complaining that he was up at "half past bloody eight o'clock in the blasted morning" as he walked with Hermione down to the great dining hall for breakfast. Hermione had decided to trust his judgment—for the time being—and tried her best to relax as they entered the dining hall where Lucius and Narcissa were already seated. Lucius had begun eating, but Narcissa had been looking at her plate rather thoughtfully and looked up as the two of them entered the room.

"Good morning," Hermione ventured in a small voice as Draco seated her in the same seat she had occupied the evening before.

Lucius did not bother to look up from the copy of _The Daily Prophet_ that he was reading, but Narcissa responded with a hesitant, "Good morning." As Draco seated himself in his usual seat across from Hermione, he quirked an eyebrow upon hearing his mother's response.

Hermione sighed with pleasure as Tooky appeared at her elbow with a huge mug of hot spiced cider. Smiling as she took the mug from the little house elf, she thought, _Perhaps today won't be so bad…at least I know what to expect now, and that Draco is still on my side._

Just then, Pansy strolled into the room looking rather smug. "Good morning, everyone," she said in a sickeningly sweet tone. As she passed Draco's seat in order to get to the one that she had occupied last night, she leaned over his shoulder and said in a stage whisper, "Oh, Draco, hun, you left these at my room last night." Reaching forward, she placed an item in front of him on the table.

It was Draco's sunglasses.


	16. Antipositional

Chapter 16—Antipositional

_Merlin's bloody blue balls…I had just managed to calm Hermione down, and now Sharkinson pulls this crap._ Draco looked up at Hermione who was sitting across from him. She wouldn't look back at him; she was staring at the sunglasses with an unreadable expression on her face. Then he looked more closely at her stiff posture and saw that she had such a death grip on her spoon that her knuckles were turning white. _Come on, Granger, don't let her see you sweat… _At this point he was more concerned about Pansy thinking that she had won—the smug grin on her face blatantly displayed that—than he was about whether or not Hermione wanted to kill him. He finally managed to catch Hermione's eye, and sent her an imploring look. _Come on, Granger, don't let her see you sweat…_

Hermione stared at him for a moment with her eyes narrowed, and finally let out a slow breath. He watched her change her posture so that she was sitting ramrod straight in her seat and once again tilted up her chin in a show of determination. Draco almost let out a sigh of relief, but noticed that his father was watching him so instead he became very interested in the contents of his mug of cider.

"Pansy, why didn't you dispose of those infernal things once and for all when you had the chance?" Obviously, his father wasn't going to let the issue drop.

"Well, Mr. Malfoy, I couldn't do _that_…if they're important to Draco, then they're important to me," Pansy was simpering.

Draco let out a derisive snort. "Oh puh-lease…you have _got_ to be kidding me—"

Lucius narrowed his eyes at Draco. "Now is that any way to speak to our guest, Draco?"

"Lucius Malfoy, you can't admonish our son about manners only when it suits your purposes."

Draco looked over at his Mum and he was sure that his mouth had fallen open. His Mum had actually reproached his father! This was such a rare occurrence that he was bereft of speech.

For a moment, Narcissa looked like she had regretted speaking, then she took a deep breath and continued in a clear, cool voice, "This is not a conversation that I would prefer to have at the table and I think we should change the subject."

Lucius was giving Narcissa a thunderous look, but Narcissa was returning it with a cool stare of her own. Pansy was pouting, Hermione looked pleasantly surprised, and Tooky practically tripped over her own feet in her haste to refill Narcissa's teacup.

After an uncomfortable minute of a tense stare-down, Lucius answered in a clipped tone, "Fine," and reached for his cup of coffee, once again immersing himself in _The Daily Prophet._ The rest of breakfast was spent in silence.

After breakfast, Draco made to walk Hermione back to her room, but she declined and exited the hall of her own accord. Finally cornering her in the hallway, Draco asked her why.

Hermione pursed her lips and looked at him sidewise. "Well," she replied, "I wouldn't want to _inconvenience_ you or anything."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Draco," she said in an exasperated tone, "I understand that this is a lot for you to put up with, and that you have your own way of dealing with it, but I'm a little tired of having to sit through meals watching you sit next to that pug-faced Pansy—"

At that, Draco smirked.

"—while she throws out constant reminders of how she was your girlfriend, and how well she knows your family, and how perfectly pureblooded of a match she is for you. And then she sends you a note, and apparently you met up with her last night!"

"Granger, you don't think that I actually—"

"No, Draco, I don't think anything happened with that, but all this has gone on with the approval of your father and you've been pretty passive about it, too! The only one who's said anything at all is your mother, who doesn't even like me but at least _she_ was willing to speak up for what she thinks is right!" And with that, she tossed her head and marched off down the hall. Draco watched her in silence for a moment and sourly wondered if she knew that she was heading down the hall towards the storage closets. The bloody girl had no sense of direction.

As he went to chase after her, he was interrupted by his father who had just entered the hallway. Lucius looked in the direction that Hermione had taken off in, and then back at Draco with a raised eyebrow. "I see you wasted no time, son. Well done," he said with a rare note of approval in his voice.

Suddenly, Draco was angry. He wished that just once he could get that tone of approval from his father for something else besides hating mudbloods. "I haven't broken up with her, if that's what you mean," he said through clenched teeth.

Lucius' face became glacial. "Why on earth not?"

"Because I don't want to!" he burst out.

"_You don't want to?_" Lucius took a step closer to Draco and gave him his most intimidating stare, the one that could get Draco quaking in his shoes almost instantaneously. "Do you have any idea what you're saying?" Lucius' voice had lowered to barely above a whisper…the calm before the storm.

Draco had had enough drama for the morning, and had no intention of putting up with any more. "Yeah, I do," he said, his tone dripping with potent Malfoy sarcasm. "Excuse me, I have an appointment to go pick up a band of muggle girls so that we can go shopping for about 500 more pairs of sunglashes," And with a sneer, he turned away from his father and started to tear off down the hall.

"How _dare_ you speak to me like that!"

Draco continued to walk away.

"Draco Malfoy, get back here this instant!"

"Draco—" another voice had entered the fray which stopped Draco in his tracks. He turned around to see his mother standing at the entrance to the hall. Lucius took one look at her, scowled, and left the hallway without another word.

The moment they were alone in the hallway, Narcissa continued as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. "I will be expecting you in the library in exactly one hour. Be prepared for defeat." And just as quickly as she had appeared, she left the hall, her dark blue silk robe floating in her wake.

Wordlessly, he stared after her. _Bloody hell...what planet did I wake up on? This is getting stranger and stranger by the minute._

Draco took his time getting to the end of the corridor and into the drawing room; he figured he'd better give Hermione a chance to cool down before he tried talking to her again. Besides, she was way too much of a…_Gryffindor_ to possibly understand what he was trying to accomplish, which was the impossible: to get Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy to tolerate the fact that their son was associating with a mudblood. Finally deciding to go back to his room and finish working on that exploding slime that he would be sending to George Weasley (it was almost done, but Draco wanted to get the odor to be even more rancid, so it would take at least two to three days to get the smell out), he began to head towards the spiral staircase when he heard the bell at the front door. Knowing Tooky was nowhere near this side of the house, he rolled his eyes and reluctantly went to answer the door.

Opening the door with a frown, he demanded, "What?" before he could even see who was on the other side.

"Hey, Malfoy, I just wanted to see how mission _Meet the Muggleborn_ is going!"

Draco felt his hands clenching into fists as he found himself staring at a hugely grinning Blaise Zabini.


	17. Deflect

Chapter 17—Deflect

Tooky's eyes were huge as she watched Hermione stir the large pot of cider on the hulking iron stove. "Miss Hermione," she squeaked, "you really shouldn'ts be doings that! You is a guest here and you should be outs with Master Draco instead of ins the kitchen with me!"

Hermione grimaced at the mention of Draco's name and continued to stir the cider. "I like it here, Tooky. And believe me when I say that I'm not missing a thing by not being with…_Master Draco,_" she spat out the name as if it were spoiled food.

Just then, the bell for the door sounded. "Oh no! I has to gets that, Miss Hermione!"

"But Tooky, we're on the other side of the house! Surely someone else can—"

Tooky looked unsure of herself for a moment, then attempted to explain, "Miss Hermione," she began tentatively, "you must knows by now that the Malfoys is different from most people."

Hermione frowned. "Yes," she replied. "I do know that. Well, would you like me to get it for you? You're so busy here…"

"_NO_, Miss Hermione!"

Hermione was taken aback by the little house elf's violent reaction. Tooky looked sorry for the outburst and hastened to explain, "I could gets in trouble for letting someones else do my job for me."

Hermione nodded in understanding. "I don't want to get you into trouble, Tooky. But would it be a problem if I went with you? It would be a good way to figure out the layout of this enormous house."

"Of course, Miss Hermione!" and the little house elf took her hand and disapparated with a CRACK.

When Hermione gained her footing, she had to grasp her head to steady it. House elves had a much more…_potent_ way of apparating. _Perhaps that's why they are able to do it at Hogwarts when no witch or wizard can,_ she surmised.

"Master Draco! I'm sorry I heards the doorbell too late!" Tooky squeaked. Hermione looked at the doorway—Draco had his hands dug into another figure's shirt and had him (_Was it a him? It had _better_ be_, Hermione thought suspiciously) pushed up against the wall. "Does we has another guest?" Tooky asked. It seemed like a bizarre question to ask considering the scene in front of them, but like Tooky had said before, the Malfoys were different from most people.

Draco looked over his shoulder at Tooky's voice, his face an expression of annoyance until he caught Hermione's eye, then he schooled it into a more remote, typical Malfoyish look of hauteur. He unfurled his hands from the other figure's shirt—it _was_ male, as far as Hermione could see—and straightened up as he ran a hand through his platinum hair.

"Granger! So you've managed to survive so far, eh? Good show!" It was Blaise Zabini, who used the opportunity to push right past Draco and into the foyer with a mischievous grin. It was all so outlandish that Hermione couldn't help grinning back in response as she shook her head. "Hello, Blaise," she said, choking back a giggle.

"_Blaise_?" Draco exclaimed. Her familiar use of Blaise's first name didn't sit well with Draco. He immediately moved over to her side and threw a territorial arm around her shoulders. Hermione looked up at him with a frown, but didn't shrug his arm away. She wasn't going to fight with him in front of others; she wanted any issues between them to remain private.

"Isn't it your fault she's here in the first place, Zabini?" Draco growled at Blaise. Hermione was about to challenge Draco on the "your fault" line, but didn't get a chance to say anything because he continued with, "You _knew_ I didn't want to subject her to this," as he absentmindedly stroked her shoulder with his thumb.

Hermione sighed. Draco _had_ tried to protect her. She hadn't fully understood it at the time, but now she could see that in his own Slytherinny way, he had tried to keep her from coming to the Manor because he didn't want to see her get hurt, not because he had been trying to hide the relationship. Perhaps she was once again expecting too much from him—it _was_ a tall order: defy centuries of pureblood conditioning and change his family's attitudes about muggleborns in only one weekend.

Zabini shrugged with a smirk. "Hey, Granger's a pretty sharp tack. She would've found a way to go even without my help, wouldn't you, Granger?"

Hermione smile was wry as she laid her head on Draco's shoulder. She had decided to be a little more patient with him…for the time being. "Most likely," she admitted.

"See? You've got no beef with me, then," Zabini proclaimed as he strolled into the drawing room. Draco looked down at Hermione and quirked an eyebrow, then proceeded to follow him, along with Hermione into the drawing room as he shook his head at Zabini's high-handedness. "Dare I ask if you had anything to do with my father's bright idea of bringing Sharkinson along?" he demanded.

Zabini turned to face him with a wide-eyed look of glee. "No! Is the Pantsy here? Really?"

Hermione couldn't help grinning at their nicknames for Pansy…apparently the girl had quite a reputation. Then she realized that a great deal of Pansy's reputation must have been established while she had been dating Draco, and Hermione glowered at the thought. She almost missed Blaise's sly comment, "I still have a bone to pick with that bird."

Draco sneered at him. "Well, you won't be around bloody long enough to do that, will you? Weren't you just leaving?"

"Draco!" Hermione never ceased to be amazed at how rude Draco could be on certain occasions.

"Leaving? _Me_? Hell, no…my mum owled your mum and I'm an overnight guest! I'm here for dinner and to catch up with my wonderful neighbors, the Malfoys! Besides, I haven't really been over since…"

"Since that spring," Draco finished. Both boys sobered and Hermione knew why. The last spring before the War had really escalated. Before Dumbledore had died. Before their lives had been changed forever.

The memory seemed to drain the resistance out of Draco. "Yeah, well, whatever. The Manor's pretty much a circus now at this point. We've already got a man-eating shark, we might as well have a clown, too," he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

"Soooo…" Blaise said, indicating his small overnight bag. "Where am I hanging my hat?"

Tooky stepped forward to take his bag. "I'll take that, Master Blaise! Which room shoulds I put him in Master Draco?" she squeaked.

Draco's lips twisted in another grimace. "How about the stables?" he suggested in a nasty tone. At Hermione's reproachful look he sighed in exasperation and amended it with, "Put him in the Bronze Room…it's way, _way_ out of the way," he said with a pointed glare at Blaise. Blaise grinned back at him in an obnoxious fashion; then followed Tooky up the spiral staircase, leaving Hermione and Draco alone in the large drawing room.

Draco turned to Hermione with a tiny smirk. He looked a bit unsure of himself, which was quite rare. "So, Granger, you're still talking to me, then?"

Hermione tilted her head and gave him a sad little smile. "Yes," she sighed, "I realized that perhaps I was expecting too much from you. After all, Rome wasn't built in a day."

He reached up to give one of her unruly curls a little tug. "Well…for what it's worth, I _did_ tell my father that I had no intention of breaking up with you."

Hermione caught her breath. "You did?"

Draco's smirk grew even more. "Yeah, I did. He was, er…_surprised_ by the news."

"Surprised? Am I to assume that's a bit of an understatement?"

A wicked grin was pulling at the corners of his mouth. "A bit."

Hermione brought her hands up to his face and slid them into his white-blonde hair. "Thank you. I know that wasn't easy for you."

He shrugged and looked away. He still acted embarrassed when she got emotional, even though she knew he secretly liked it. She leaned in and gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek. "I love you, Draco," she said, hugging him close.

She could feel his breath on her hair as he muttered, "Love you too, Granger." Hermione smiled. It was like pulling teeth sometimes to get him to say it, but at least he was saying it now.

Just then, the grandfather clock in the drawing room chimed once, signaling half-past the hour. Draco pulled back. "Bugger…I'd better get that package ready to send out to the holey Weasel. My mum wants me to meet her in the library for chess in 30 minutes."

Hermione squeezed his hand. "You'd better get going. I'll just amuse myself by looking around here and maybe going back to my room and finishing my book."

Draco smirked at her once more. "Surprise, surprise." He quirked an eyebrow at her. "Are you actually going to be able to find your way back to your room from here?" he asked mockingly.

Hermione gave him a shove. "Yes, you git! Besides, I can always ask Tooky. Now get going."

With an evil chuckle, Draco sauntered up the spiral staircase and out of sight.

Alone in the large drawing room for the first time, Hermione looked around. She was glad that it was morning—the lighting gave the dark purple walls a different cast than the ominous shadows that they had made the last time she had been at the Manor, in the midst of the great wizarding War. Slowly, she willed herself to examine the room in a detached manner. It really was an impressive room. The gleaming marble floor gave it an elegant, albeit cold feel. She knew from experience just how cold the floor could be, remembering how it chilled her body when Bellatrix Lestrange had dragged her across it by her hair…no, _no_, she wouldn't allow herself to think about that. _Create NEW memories, Hermione, _she chided herself.

Letting out a slow, shaky breath, she stepped closer to the wall where several portraits hung depicting what Hermione assumed to be many noteworthy Malfoys from the past, including a family portrait of Lucius, Narcissa, and a toddler Draco. She felt a smile spread across her face as she examined the portrait, as she chose to focus solely on the young Draco. He was wearing an expression similar to the one that she was accustomed to seeing on him when he was being forced to sit through something that he was less than enthusiastic about, such as meeting with her friends, Ginny, Harry or Ron, or just about any class other than Potions (Draco tended to enjoy Potions the tiniest bit more than his other classes, mainly due to the fact that baiting Professor Slughorn happened to be one of his current hobbies). Even with the sullen expression on his face, Draco Malfoy had been a striking toddler, just as he was a striking young man now. She was sure that she had been smiling rather foolishly up at the painting when a voice jolted her out of her reverie with a start.

"We had the most difficult time getting him to sit still for that portrait," a rather clear, but remote voice floated in from behind her. Hermione turned to see Narcissa Malfoy, who looked as if she had regretted speaking aloud and was trying to figure out how to take it back.

Hermione was not about to let a possibly civil moment between herself and Draco's mother pass. "All the same, it is impressive," she admitted with a shy smile. "It's such a handsome family portrait."

Narcissa looked at Hermione in puzzlement. _Why do I seem to perplex her so much?_ Hermione wondered. _I wish she were able to look at me as a person instead of as some sort of baffling…_thing. Self-consciously, Hermione turned back to the wall of portraits and continued to study them in silence.

"It's a Malfoy tradition to have a family portrait painted, and then another one painted of each family member when they reach their majority. Draco is actually overdue to sit for a portrait once again."

Hermione felt herself smiling at Narcissa's stilted attempts to speak to her. Apparently, Narcissa was not fully comfortable with it, and would only do so if not much attention was called to the fact that it was occurring. It reminded Hermione of the way Draco had acted towards her at the beginning of the school year—curious, yet wary.

"I would _love_ to see that portrait, though I can't imagine that he'll like sitting for it any more now than he did when this one was painted," Hermione ventured with a wry smile, continuing to keep her gaze focused solely on the portrait as she spoke.

Narcissa was silent for a moment. "No," she finally said, also keeping her eyes judiciously focused on the painting. "Draco has always had a bit of a contrary streak in him. He bristles at being told what to do, though he usually ends up doing it in the end." At that remark, Narcissa turned and looked directly at Hermione, and all of a sudden Hermione knew that they were no longer speaking about just portraits.

Hermione took a deep breath and held Narcissa Malfoy's penetrating gaze. _I am thoroughly tired of being pushed around._ "Perhaps you're right," Hermione admitted, "but then again, he hasn't sat for that portrait yet, has he, Mrs. Malfoy?"

Narcissa's eyes widened a bit; then she pressed her lips together as she continued to stare at Hermione for a moment, and finally turned and glided away.


	18. Breakthrough

Chapter 18—Breakthrough

Draco finished addressing the package and looked at it in satisfaction for a moment before tucking it under his arm and heading out towards the Owlery. He had a few more minutes before he had to meet his mum in the library for chess, so he decided it would be best to get the package sent out to His Holeyness the Weasel before he became too distracted. As he strolled down the hallway, he smirked to himself as he thought of the Weasel's reaction when he opened _this_ little number. Draco just hoped that he had gotten the projectile charm right…this particular prank was all about the presentation.

"Hey, baby, where are you going?"

Draco closed his eyes in frustration. _Bugger me. Not the Sharkinson. Not now. _He continued to walk and tossed over his shoulder in a curt tone, "To the Owlery. _Alone_."

"Aw, come on, Drakie, you're not still mad at me because of that little bit of fun at breakfast, are you?"

He stopped in his tracks and turned to face Pansy Parkinson. He could feel his blood begin to boil, but tactically kept his face blank. "_Little bit of fun?_ Is that what you call it?"

Pansy, misinterpreting his hesitation for civility, moved closer to him to take advantage of the "opportunity". "Of course," she said, with a coy bump of her shoulder against his. "And not so long ago you would have said so, too." Looking down, she noticed the package under his arm. "Whatcha got there, hun?"

Draco felt an evil smile touch his lips, but controlled it so as not to arouse suspicion. "Eh, just a present for somebody," he said in a blasé tone. _I ought to have enough left over in my room to put together another package for the Weaselby…if not, I'll just hit it with an engorgement charm or something. _

"A present? Who's it for?" Pansy demanded, her dark eyes narrowing. "Not that Gryffindork Granger!"

_Yeah, this'll be a great way to see if I got the projectile right._ "Well, you know, make all the right moves, lull her into a false sense of security and all that. When I'm through with her, her resistance'll crumble like dried doxy droppings," he shrugged, putting as much as he could into the performance to make it sound believable.

"I don't understand why you're so stuck on that ridiculous frizzy-haired mudblood, Draco! She doesn't _deserve_ that sort of attention! Especially when there are more willing Slytherins around," Pansy said suggestively, leaning in even closer to him.

Draco pursed his lips and looked down at the package, as if he were contemplating what she had just said. "Well…" he pretended to debate as he noticed Blaise Zabini approaching from the other side of the hall. Pansy hadn't seen Blaise, so Draco raised his eyebrows once to alert Blaise to the fact that he was up to something. It had been a signal that they used in the past to indicate a scheme, and Blaise gave a sly nod of acknowledgement. Pansy, as usual, was oblivious to all except that which directly involved her, which suited Draco's purposes perfectly. As Blaise continued his silent approach from the other end of the hall, Draco faced Pansy with his most convincing Malfoy Look, which had Pansy hanging on his every word with bated breath.

"You know what," he drawled with a smirk, "you're right, Pans…I can't think of _anyone_ who deserves this more than you, babe." It was all he could do to keep from breaking out into a huge grin as he handed her the package.

Blaise was only about ten steps away, shaking with silent laughter at Draco's palpable ploy. Pansy, on the other hand, took the package with a simper. "I _knew_ you'd come to your senses sooner or later, Drakie," she breathed, gazing at him alluringly as she lifted the lid of the box…

_BLAM!_

"OH! What in the bloody hell is this? How disgusting!"

_Look at that…perfect projection…I just hope the smell lasts…_

"Draco Malfoy, how could you? I can't see through this gunk at all —"

_Damn, sometimes I even impress myself._

"—and it smells like the Giant Squid in the middle of summer!"

_Brilliant. Just what I was going for. Guess I'll get another package together and send it off just as it is to His Holeyness, now that I know for sure how well it works..._

Turning away to head back to his room, Draco signaled to Zabini to take over as Pansy continued to rant, struggling to get the thick, odiferous slime out of her eyes. _Good luck with that, Sharkinson. If my calculations are correct, it's going to take at least a half an hour just to get that sludge off your face._

"Come on, babe, let's get you cleaned up," Blaise was saying in a passable imitation of Draco's drawl.

"I can't believe you did this to me, Draco!"

"Aw, come on, Pans, it was an accident, love! Let me make it up to you…I'll fix you up _real nice_, I promise…" Blaise continued as he led Pansy towards the large bathroom with a wicked glint in his eye.

_Yeah, I'll just __**bet**__ you will, Zabini._ Draco smirked and headed back to his room to prepare package number two.

A short while later, Draco sauntered into the library with a satisfied grin on his face. He had just sent another package of exploding slime off to George Weasley, and Blaise managed to disappear somewhere with Pansy Parkinslime, so Draco wouldn't have to worry about that nuisance for a while, either. As he settled into his seat across from his mum, he noticed that she was staring down at the chessboard with an odd expression on her face. She hadn't looked up at him since he had entered the library.

"Mum? You okay?"

Narcissa continued to gaze at the chessboard in silence. "Draco," she began in a resolute tone, "what exactly _is_ this girl to you?"

Draco sighed. _Bollocks._ _Talk about jumping right into the fire._ His mum sounded like she wasn't going to rest until she got some answers, and he had been trying to avoid a confrontation with her. There was one last thing he could try, though. He moved one of his knights into position. "Check," he said, hoping to distract her.

Narcissa finally looked up at him and raised her eyebrows. "Come now, son, that wasn't even a real attempt. But being as you're going to make it so easy for me…" Her rook slid over to the square his knight had occupied and proceeded to smash it across the board. Draco looked down at his sacrificed knight with a sour frown.

"You didn't answer my question, Draco," Narcissa pressed.

_Dammit. She _still_ wants to know and now I'm down to only four blasted chess pieces on this ruddy board._ Self-conscious, he ran a hand through his hair. "Why is this so important to you? She's only here for one more day, anyway."

"You are my son. Everything you do is important to me."

Unused to hearing such candor from his mother, he looked up into her piercing blue eyes in surprise. For a moment, he saw an expression on her face that he recognized from when he was younger—a more open, thoughtful look, but then it was quickly masked by her much more customary aloofness. He didn't realize how much he had missed that look until he had seen it once more, no matter how brief. Embarrassed at the upsurge of emotion that it had provoked, he looked back down at the board.

"Do you love her?" she pressed.

Draco kept his head down and studied the chess pieces in a stoic manner. "Do you really want me to answer that?" he said as he carefully assessed his situation both on the chess board and in the chair in which he sat.

Narcissa sighed. "Draco," she began, "you're our only son. You do understand that you alone are the next generation of Malfoy, and our name is one of the few pureblooded names left…"

"Mum, I've been hearing this for practically forever."

"You could have _any_ witch you wanted. Surely you could find a girl closer to your pedigree that would be more suitable…"

Just then two voices could be heard in passing from the outside hallway:

"Blaise Zabini! How dare you! Get away from me!"

"That's not what you were saying a minute ago, Pants… '_How does _that_ feel, love? Feels good to me_,'" Blaise was mimicking Pansy with a falsetto purr.

"But I thought you were Draco!"

"Yeah, right, Parkinson, you were _so_ careful about whose hands you thought were on your—"

"I hate you!"

Draco looked up pointedly at his mother, whose expression was a combination of dismay, distaste and discomfiture. "Well, mum," he said, just realizing an advantage he now had in position that had been revealed by his last move. "Things aren't always what they seem." Reaching forward, he moved one of his remaining pieces into a powerful position, then leaned back in his chair and folded his hands behind his head with a smug grin. "Sometimes what you think is a bad thing, turns out to be a good thing."


	19. Sacrifice

Chapter 19—Sacrifice

Hermione had finally finished reading _A Study of Wizarding Genealogies of Great Britain_ and looked over at the clock in her room. Draco had probably finished the next round of chess with his mother by now—two hours had already passed. At this point either one of them had claimed a victory, or if not, they would be taking a break to resume play in the evening following dinner. Hermione had a feeling that the second situation was probably the case, considering the level of seriousness that surrounded their play. Being as lunchtime was approaching, she decided to leave her room to search for Draco. Although she would have preferred to eat in the kitchens with Tooky, she feared that if she attempted that, it would push the poor little house elf over the edge. Perhaps improvements in wizard-house elf relations had to be taken more slowly…

Wandering down the hall, Hermione glanced around for anything familiar that might possibly point her in the right direction, but after a few turns down adjoining corridors, she soon found herself to be hopelessly lost. Not wanting to call for Tooky too soon (she was already overworked as it was), she took her wand out of her pocket and was just about to cast a Four Point spell when she was interrupted by a voice from behind.

"Granger, what are you doing all the way out here?"

Turning, she found Blaise Zabini sauntering towards her with his hands stuffed in his pockets and a saucy grin on his face. As he drew nearer, Hermione caught a quick, faint whiff of what seemed to be rotting fish, but she dismissed it as she gave him a helpless shrug. "I'm lost," she admitted. "This house is just too overwhelming for me to find my way."

"Looking for Malfoy?" he asked. She nodded. "Me too. Come on, he's probably on his way back to his room," he said as he continued to stroll down the hall in the direction she had come from. Hermione hastened to follow him and was once again struck by the aroma of rotting seafood. "Uh, Blaise? I don't mean to be rude, but you sort of smell like…like bad fish…" she trailed off, embarrassed.

Surprisingly, he threw his head back and cackled as he continued to walk. "That's why I need to find Malfoy." Furrowing her brow at this cryptic remark, she continued to follow him down the hallway. As they turned another corner, they came face to face with Draco himself. Draco scowled at Blaise and wrinkled his nose. "I actually smelled you coming, Zabini," he sneered.

Zabini grinned back at him. "Yeah, well, it was worth it. I had to get her back for telling Bulstrode the behemoth that I had a thing for her. The graphorn actually believed Pantsy and has been stalking me ever since."

"Where's the shark now?" Draco asked, reaching out for Hermione. Hermione, confused at the puzzling conversation, moved closer to Draco as he threw an arm about her shoulders.

"Holed up in her rooms stinking up the west wing. Speaking of, do you have a spell that can get this smell out?" Blaise asked, spreading his arms. "I'm making me lose my own appetite," he quipped.

Draco smirked. "Yeah, I do. I suppose you want me to take care of that now?"

"Naturally."

Draco sighed. "I left my wand in my room. You'll have to follow me back."

Hermione was making the connection that Pansy Parkinson smelled even worse than Blaise Zabini did and the Slytherin boys were obviously going to let her stay that way. As Draco and Blaise turned to leave, Hermione stepped out of Draco's embrace. "Draco, I just realized that I forgot something in my room. Can I meet you in the dining hall for lunch?"

Draco faced her, his silver eyes narrowed in scrutiny. "Granger, are you up to something?"

"No, no…I just have something to do."

"Well, how do you plan on finding your way to the dining hall?" he asked with a mocking grin.

She smiled and rolled her eyes at him. "I'll ask Tooky. Now get going, you two. _Please_," she stressed, pinching her nose shut with a grimace at Blaise.

She was rewarded with identical Slytherin smirks just before the boys made their departure. As soon as they were out of sight, Hermione looked around and whispered furtively, "Tooky? Tooky…I need your help!"

CRACK!

The tiny house elf had apparated in front of her. "Miss Hermione! Is you all right?" Tooky squeaked in a concerned tone.

"Yes, yes, everything's fine, Tooky…I was just wondering if you could show me to Pansy Parkinson's room."

"_What?_ Miss Hermione, is you crazy or something?"

"Please, Tooky, just trust me. It's important."

With great reluctance, Tooky led Hermione down the halls to the west wing where Pansy was staying. They stopped in front of a large door and Tooky turned to Hermione once more and whispered, "Is you sure about this, Miss Hermione? Miss Parkinson is not going to wants to talk to you…"

"I'm not expecting much, Tooky, but there _is_ something important here that I need to do."

Doubtfully, Tooky turned to leave. Looking back at Hermione over her shoulder, she added, "Well, if you needs anything, Miss Hermione, you just calls me, okay?" before disapparating with a CRACK.

Hermione turned back to the door, took a deep breath and gave it a soft knock. Pansy's voice arose from within. "Who is it?" Hermione could hear a scratchiness in her tone, as if Pansy had been crying for a while.

_I knew it,_ Hermione thought. "It's Hermione Granger," she answered in a careful voice.

"What are you doing here, mudblood? Come to gloat?" Hermione might have been imagining things, but she thought that Pansy's voice sounded slightly less hateful than usual; more defensive than offensive.

"No," Hermione answered. "I've come to help. That is, if you'll let me…"

"I don't need any help from a mudblood!"

Hermione closed her eyes and sighed. The girl would turn away help for a ridiculous unfounded prejudice? Even after the entire wizarding world had fought a War over it? Determined, she pulled her wand out of her pocket and pointed it at the door, whispering, "_Alohomora_," and the door swung open. The horrid smell that Blaise had been sporting was mild compared to the aroma that greeted Hermione as she stepped into the room.

Pansy had been lying face down on the bed with her head buried in a pillow and looked up at Hermione with a combination of shock, indignation, and, if Hermione wasn't mistaken, a small glimmer of hope. "How _dare_ you come into my room uninvited, mudblood!" she spat at Hermione.

Hermione put her hands on her hips and maintained a stubborn stance. "Pansy Parkinson, I don't believe for a moment that you'd prefer to go on smelling like the Giant Squid rather than accept my help!"

Pansy looked down at her pillow and glowered for a moment, then looked up at Hermione with renewed suspicion. "Well, I don't want to be blackmailed by some Gryffindork!"

"_Blackmailed?_ Why on earth would you think something like that?"

"What other reason would you have for being here?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I thought I made that clear—to get rid of that horrid smell for you!"

In her confusion, Pansy forgot her rancor. She sat up and looked at Hermione in disbelief. "And just what do you want in return, bookworm?"

_Well, at least she didn't call me "mudblood" that time_, Hermione mused. "In return?" she rejoined, confused. "I'm just here to get that smell out for you, Pansy…that's all."

"I don't get it," Pansy said, her expression wary.

Hermione sighed and held up her wand. "Just shush and hold still."

About thirty minutes later, Hermione headed to the dining hall for lunch. She was feeling confident that she was finally starting to figure out the layout of the vast house, and strode towards the end of the corridor where she was sure that the spiral staircase that led to the drawing room would be found.

But she was mistaken. All she encountered was a large set of doors that looked familiar, but she couldn't quite remember how… "Blast!" she cried in frustration.

Then the doors creaked open and a platinum head popped out. "Granger, I thought you wanted to meet in the dining hall."

Hermione sighed and before she could answer, Draco smirked at her. "You thought you were headed there on your own, didn't you?" She gave a sullen nod as he snorted.

"Head Girl, you have _no_ sense of direction, you know that? Come on, luckily you have me around to get you out of a jam," he drawled as he closed the door behind her and grabbed her hand. As she fell into step at his side (heading in the complete opposite direction from whence she came), she retorted in a tart voice, "Don't get used to it, Malfoy."

"Oh, we're back to Malfoy, eh? You'd better be nice to me or I'll drop you off at the stables or something."

"Go ahead…then you, Pansy and Blaise could have a nice, candlelight lunch together." Hermione bit back an impish grin at Draco's painful grimace.

They turned a corner and Hermione could see the top of the spiral staircase at the end of the corridor. _Well, at least I was closer this time._ "Speaking of Pants—_Parkinson_," Draco corrected himself, "did your disappearance earlier have something to do with her, by any chance?"

Hermione didn't really want to get into that. "What makes you think that?" she asked, her tone evasive.

"Because helping out that harpy is just the sort of thing that some soft-hearted, do-gooder Gryffindor would do."

"When you say it that way, you make it sound like a bad thing, Draco."

"You _did_ help her didn't you?" Draco stopped to face her, rolling his eyes. "Granger…"

"Draco," she began, "it was my decision, okay? And besides, now that that horrid odor is finally gone, it's better for the entire household in general, don't you think?"

Draco shook his head at her and then pulled her in for a steamy kiss. As her knees grew weak, he whispered into her ear, "I can think of better ways for you to spend your time, you know."

"Draco, I couldn't just leave her in that state, and…" She was losing her train of thought as he began to kiss her neck.

"Hmmm?" he murmured, continuing a trail down to her collarbone, making her feel as if she had been hit with a jelly-legs jinx.

"Master Draco! Is you and Miss Hermione on your way to the dining hall for lunch?"

At the sound of Tooky's voice, Hermione felt her face grow bright red. Draco, on the other hand, was muttering something in her ear along the lines of, "…blasted elf has got to have some sort of bloody radar or something…dammit…"

A few minutes later, Hermione and Draco were seated in the dining hall (Tooky had insisted on escorting them there). Blaise Zabini was already seated in the place next to what was now becoming Hermione's customary seat, telling some sort of story to Draco's father, who seemed to be barely paying attention. As Blaise chattered on, Lucius Malfoy poured himself a glass of wine with a disinterested expression. Narcissa Malfoy, on the other hand, looked up at Hermione as she settled into her seat, and Hermione was struck once again by how elegant the woman was—even her penetrating stare was executed with a sort of icy perfection.

When everyone was finally settled, Lucius looked around at the table and noticing that the seat next to Draco was empty, he disregarded what Blaise was saying and demanded, "What's going on here? Where is Pansy?"

Tooky stepped forward. "She lefts early, Mister Lucius."

"_What?"_

"Left? Why on earth..?" Narcissa exclaimed, taken aback. Meanwhile, Lucius' eyes narrowed and darted over in Draco's direction. Draco gave an insolent smile and reached for a roll.

"Well, she said she hads to get an early start because she hads a lots to do before heading back to Durmstrang, Mistress Narcissa,"

Narcissa pressed her lips together. "It's just as well, I suppose," she said, as she picked up a spoon and dipped it into the small bowl of soup in front of her. Lucius Malfoy sent a glare in her direction, but Narcissa proceeded to sip at her soup as if nothing unusual had just been said.

Watching the exchange in fascination, Hermione didn't even notice that Tooky had slipped over to her side of the table until the tiny elf gave her a tentative nudge with a silver tray. Surprised, she looked down to see the house elf had a note resting on the platter. "Miss Hermione," she squeaked softly, not wanting to call any attention, "this is for you."

She plucked the note from the tray and placed it in her lap where no one could see it and Tooky disappeared the moment the note was in her lap. No one at the table seemed to have noticed—Draco was taunting Blaise about the story he had been attempting to tell, while Narcissa and Lucius were continuing with their silent impasse. Looking down, Hermione folded open the note, which contained an abrupt feminine scrawl. It consisted of three words:

_He's all yours._


	20. Overloaded

Chapter 20—Overloaded

Draco leaned back in his seat and surveyed the scene in front of him. The entire table was enveloped in silence, from his mother and father staring each other down to Blaise Zabini who was darting his eyes back and forth between the two as if he were watching a Quidditch match. _Bloody clot,_ Draco thought in irritation. Glancing at Hermione, he noticed that she was staring down at her lap. _Hmmm…wonder what __**that's**__ all about,_ he began to suspect until she looked up and locked eyes with him. He then furrowed his brow at her as if to say, _What's going on? _She shrugged and sent him back a sweet little smile.

Perversely, Draco found this to be quite alluring in contrast to the battlefield that was going on around him at the rest of the table. As the Malfoy War of Silence continued (with the exception of silverware clinking and clanking about in a pointed and petulant manner) he found himself returning Hermione's smile with a wolfish one of his own. _Too bad I can't have lunch with Granger back in my rooms…alone…_

He was sure that Hermione must have been catching his train of thought because at that point her face began to turn a deep shade of pink. She didn't break eye contact though. _Yeah, that's my stubborn Gryffindor,_ he thought in appreciation as he began to contemplate ways to corner her in an isolated wing of the house.

"Hey, Malfoy, did you ever tell your Mum about how you practically busted your head open winning the last Quidditch match?" Blaise drawled, interrupting Draco's reverie with a mischievous smile.

His mother gasped and dropped her spoon into her Brown Windsor soup.

_Thanks a lot, Zabini,_ Draco thought as he sent a glare in Blaise's direction. _I __**knew**__ I should have put him up in the stables. Blasted berk. _

"Draco! When in the name of Merlin did this happen?" Narcissa demanded in a high, clear voice as Tooky hastened over to the table and retrieved his mother's spoon.

Draco let out a breath of exasperation and shook his head, firing another dirty look at Blaise, who smiled back at him cheekily. Unfortunately, in the moment of hesitation, Hermione must have assumed that he wasn't going to answer his mother at all and decided to take on the task:

"Oh, luckily he wasn't hurt badly, Mrs. Malfoy…I helped Madame Pomfrey as much as I could, and she did mend his skull right away." _Buggeration, this can NOT be happening, _Draco thought, transfixed with dread as Hermione went on. "I also spent most of my time at the infirmary when he was there, and made sure that he didn't fall behind in his schoolwork." Hermione looked over at Draco lovingly, but he could feel his mouth hanging open. The girl had no idea what sort of damage she was causing and he began to make a slicing motion across his throat in order to get her to stop. However, she interpreted his mother's stunned silence as an invitation to continue, and inadvertently dropped the bomb. "He was just _amazing_ in that Quidditch game, Mrs. Malfoy," Hermione gushed, "Draco not only won the game, but he did it while saving Ginny Weasley from a pair of bludgers that Team Venom had hexed into—"

"WHILE SAVING_ WHO?" _his father's voice boomed from the other end of the table.

_Blast._

"Draco Abraxas Malfoy! Is this true? You nearly cracked your head open for a ridiculous _game_, and I wasn't even notified about this? How _dare_ you not—"

_Somebody just hex me now, and make it good. Something that'll put me out for at least a week—until this entire bloody mess blows over._

"Hey, Mrs. Malfoy, Quidditch isn't just a ridiculous game—" Blaise cut in. His expression was anxious, as if he were just realizing what a can of flobberworms he had opened up.

_Dumbnutted Dugbog. If you had just kept your Slytherin wannabe trap shut…_

"Did I hear this correctly, Draco? You put yourself at risk for a low-class blood traitor—" Lucius bellowed. Hermione gasped at his words and a hand flew to her mouth.

"Mum, I'm _fine_; it was no big deal—"

"Yeah, he did manage to grab the snitch just before he fell off of his broom, so it couldn't have been _that_ bad—"

"_Fell off of his broom?"_ Narcissa's voice raised an octave.

Draco turned to Blaise and growled, "Dammit, Zabini, will you just shut it?"

Lucius Malfoy had stood up and slammed his hand down on the table with a BOOM. Everyone sat back in their seats in silence. Hermione looked horrified, Narcissa was indignant, and Zabini's eyes darted about the table in a guilty fashion. For a moment, Lucius Malfoy stared down at Draco with a thunderous expression. "Draco," he began in a dangerously low voice, "I am going to give you _one chance_ to clarify yourself. Did you or did you not save a Weasley during that Quidditch match?"

_Bollockov_. Draco could feel his heart plummeting into the pit of his stomach, but he forced himself to look up at his father unflinching as he said, "I did."

"And why on earth would you be saving a blood-traitor that also happens to be Gryffindor scum—" another small gasp from Hermione, "—when you play for the Slytherin team?" Lucius' voice remained low, and Draco knew this was a _very_ bad sign. Especially when he knew that the answer that he was going to give would make the situation even worse. He took a deep breath and said, "Because now I play on the Weaselette's team."

"You _what?"_

"I play on the Weaselette's team now." It was easier to say the second time, so Draco was able to enunciate more clearly.

"NO SON OF MINE IS GOING TO PLAY ON THE SAME TEAM AS SOME FILTHY MUGGLE-LOVER!"

"Lucius," Narcissa's voice took on a warning tone from the other end of the table.

Draco could feel his temper rising. _Bugger me all to hell, this is beyond absurd,_ he thought, angry. _I had to live in the same house as the Dark Lord and the Death Eaters, been ordered to kill people, watch one of my friends burn to death in a fire, lived through a battle, and my father is furious about what Quidditch team I play for? What am I, twelve?_ He looked up at his father with his eyes simmering. "I already have," he said in a tone that matched his father's low, dangerous one.

The rest of the table was silent. Hermione's already wide brown eyes threatened to overtake her entire face, and Blaise's mouth was hanging open. Narcissa was shifted into a position with both of her hands on the table as if she were about to rise at any moment, but Draco was finally angry enough to not need her to shield him anymore.

"And it will be the first and last time that a Malfoy _ever_ associates with a bunch of dirty-blooded—"

"No," Draco said in a firm voice.

"_What_ did you say?"

"I said no. I'm not quitting Quidditch," he said as he leaned back in his seat, giving the appearance of being much more relaxed than he actually felt.

"How _dare_ you defy me—"

"_Lucius_," Narcissa warned, once more poised to stand.

"What has gotten into you, boy?" Draco continued to stare back at his father, and Lucius' eyes slid away from his and rested on Hermione, who had turned pure white during the course of the exchange. "Or should I not even bother to ask," he said, glaring at her as his lip curled in disgust. He turned back to Draco and added, "I would not have thought that my son would be weak-minded enough to be infected by a filthy—"

"I am NOT weak-minded!"

"Is that so? Do you or do you not recall that, _'nothing is a surer sign of weak magic—"_

"—_than a weakness for non-magical company," _Hermione finished the quote that his father had begun. Flabbergasted, Lucius Malfoy's eyes darted over to Hermione. "Where in the name of Salazar did you hear that?" he demanded.

Hermione met his gaze and answered in a small, but unwavering voice, "Brutus Malfoy, _Warlock at War_ periodical, circa 1675." As Lucius stared at her in appalled disbelief, she added with a courage that Draco found nothing short of amazing, "Quite a long time ago, wasn't it, Mr. Malfoy?"

_Merlin's bloody blue balls._

Lucius looked ready to explode. "Why you insolent little mudblo—"

"_Father!"_ Draco shot back, but his mother had stood up and raised her voice so it carried right over his.

"Lucius Malfoy! This is not the time or the place to be creating a scene!"

Lucius' icy glare turned on Narcissa, who matched it with a glacial stare of her own. For a moment, not a sound was made and the tension was so thick that it was almost difficult to breathe.

And then suddenly, Lucius Malfoy spun on his heel and left the dining hall. Everyone seemed frozen in place until Narcissa lowered herself into her seat, once again the image of icy hauteur. "Eat," she commanded, as she picked up her spoon and dipped it into her soup.

Draco looked around the table once more. Blaise sat in stunned silence and Hermione looked as if one more word from anyone else would cause her to pass out. The effort of holding her own finally seemed to be wearing on her. As for Draco, he realized that he had been clenching his fists so tightly that as he loosened them, he could feel deep ridges from his fingernails cutting into the palms of his hands.

Narcissa looked up from her soup once more. "I said, _eat."_ Her voice sounded so much like a royal decree that it was met with no arguments as the three other occupants at the table picked up their spoons and turned to their bowls of soup in dazed silence.


	21. Check

Chapter 21—Check

When lunch was finished, Narcissa Malfoy rose from the table, gave Draco a command as to what time their chess game would be resuming, and then glided away in a floating cloud of silk. Blaise left the table in silence soon after—it was obvious that he wanted to get out of Draco's way as soon as possible after the damage he had inadvertently caused, but Draco still managed to fire a scowl his way as Blaise passed. Blaise pretended not to notice as he made his hasty exit. Once the dining hall was clear of everyone except Draco, Hermione let out a deep breath and put her face in her hands, which were still shaking.

"You okay?" Draco asked, heading towards her seat.

"I'm uh…I'm fi—er, _no_. No, I'm not particularly okay. But I'll live," she added as she looked up at him, forcing herself to smile.

Draco snorted. "Granger, you look like someone just burned your copy of _Hogwarts, A History_."

Hermione redoubled her efforts to smile, but she was finding it difficult. Draco sighed at her feeble efforts. "Now you know why I didn't want you to come. I _told_ you so," he muttered sourly.

In spite of herself, Hermione began to giggle. Draco scowled at her. "Are you off your nut, Granger? What in the bloody hell is so funny?"

Hermione began to laugh even harder. "Draco Malfoy," she managed between chuckles, "you are the only person in the world that I know of who would actually try to…to _console_ someone by rubbing their face in it and saying, '_I told you so'_!" She began to giggle so hard that she flapped her hands in an effort to get a hold of herself.

Draco watched her with a bemused smirk on his face, arms folded across his chest as he waited for her to finish. "Yeah, well," he drawled loudly over her laughter, "when they made me, they broke the mold."

Hermione sighed and wiped her eyes. "They certainly broke _something_," she added with a tart smile.

Draco leaned forward with a wicked grin and placed a hand on each of the arms of the chair in which she was sitting. "I am in _perfect_ working condition, Granger, as I'd be happy to demonstrate for you right now, if need be."

_Oh my._ Draco had a way with charming her out of pretty much any mood that he didn't want to see her in. Lucius Malfoy's tirade seemed to have happened about a hundred years ago as she took in Draco's silvery-blue eyes that were narrowing at her in anticipation. However, as she felt herself getting lost in his predatory gaze, she heard herself saying, "Why aren't you like that?"

Draco's hand had begun to twine in her hair, but it stilled mid-motion. "Like what?" he asked in confusion.

Hermione took a self-conscious breath. It was something she needed to hear at the moment. "Why aren't you like your father? You _used_ to be. If I had a sickle for every time you called me a filthy little mudblo—"

"Granger…" Draco shifted uncomfortably, "I am _not_ my father, all right? No matter how much everyone in my family seems determined to make it so."

Hermione looked down at her feet. "Am I making you do something you don't want to do? I mean, this may be something for which your parents may never forgive you, and I don't—"

"All right, Granger, I can see that this is going to call for desperate measures. You're going to have to come with me." Draco grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the chair. Nonplussed, Hermione allowed herself to be dragged along. "But…but I just don't want to make everything more difficult for you than it already—" she began to protest as she followed him to an undesignated destination.

"Look here, Head Girl. You seem to be happiest when you're over-thinking some crap, and you haven't really been comfortable since you got here, so I'm going to kill two birds with one stone. Ah, here we are." He stopped them in front of a large oak door. Hermione stared up at it, more confused than ever. "Where is 'here'?" she asked.

"Only one way to find out, is there?" he said, gesturing to the door.

Curious, she pushed it open to reveal the very large Malfoy library. Hermione gasped in pleasure. "Oh, what a beautiful library!" she cried, taking in the expansive book-filled room.

Draco moved to her side, rolling his eyes at her. "Yeah, I knew that would work. Now why don't you grab some Encyclopedia of the History of Wizardkind or some such bunk and read it until your little eyeballs fall out?"

Hermione threw her arms around his neck and kissed him on the cheek. "Draco, thank you so much."

Draco snaked his hands around her waist. "Feel free to be more demonstrative in your gratitude, Granger," he breathed as he leaned in to give her a passionate kiss.

CRACK!

"Master Draco! Miss Hermione! I broughts you some fresh hot cider!"

Hermione bit her lip to keep from laughing when she saw the expression on Draco's face—he looked like he was ready to explode. In order to shield the little house elf from his wrath, she turned to Tooky and plucked the two huge, steaming mugs of cider off of the tray that the elf was holding aloft. "Thank you, Tooky," she said with a smile. "How thoughtful." Hermione handed a mug to Draco, who took it with an expression akin to a grumpy dragon that had just been deprived of its favorite meal.

"Right," he mumbled sullenly as he took a sip. "_Thoughtful_. Buggering busybody elf…"

Tooky kept her focus on Hermione, and Hermione suspected that the little house elf knew the family—and Draco in particular—better than anyone had given her credit for. "How long does you plans on staying in the library, Miss Hermione? I can lights the fireplace for you! And is Master Draco stayings with you, too?"

"Dammit, I know how to light a blasted fireplace…"

"Oh, thanks, Tooky…and yes, I believe he will be staying here with me. Is that right, Draco?" Hermione looked at Draco with an innocent, questioning smile. Draco glared back at her, so she turned back to Tooky before she burst into another fit of giggles and said with mock seriousness, "Yes, it seems that he will."

"Very good, Miss Hermione! I'll be back to checks on you later to see if you needs anything!" And with that, Tooky disapparated with a CRACK.

For the next hour, Hermione happily immersed herself in a fascinating, although rather biased tome titled _Prominent Purebloods_. There were even more famous Malfoys outlined in the massive book, which still piqued Hermione's interest a great deal even if the family's current descendants (with the exception of its youngest member) did happen to have an incredibly low opinion of her. However, the youngest member of the house of Malfoy happened to be lounging on the couch that Hermione was sitting on with his head propped on a pillow in her lap, dozing off as she absentmindedly stroked his hair while she read.

Then Hermione heard the library door swing open and shut, and the sound made her jump. The movement caused Draco to snark rather loudly; then he grumbled in protest. "Granger, what gives?" he griped, rubbing his eyes. "I was in the middle of a really good dream where you were wearing a pretty skimpy harem girl outfit, and—"

"Well, son, do you think you'll be able to focus properly on our chess game, or will I need to charm the Queen on my board to look like a bellydancer in order to hold your interest?" Narcissa Malfoy interrupted with an acerbic tone.

Hermione was horrified, but Draco's characteristic smirk seeped across his face. "Nah, that won't be necessary, Mum," he drawled, rising from the couch and sauntering towards the table. His mother was already settling herself into her customary seat on one side of the chess board. "I don't think the game will give me that much of a problem," he said as he plopped into the other seat with an arrogant grin.

Hermione's eyes grew wide at Draco's blatant sass at his mother. Surely that wouldn't go over well with her at all, especially after the rather…_eventful_ lunch they had all shared.

Narcissa quirked a challenging eyebrow at her son. "Draco, are you sure you're not still dreaming? Perhaps I should call Tooky and have her bring the smelling salts."

Draco grimaced. "No thanks. I've seen enough of that sodding elf to last me a lifetime…"

"Draco, _language_."

Not wanting to intrude, Hermione stood up and tucked the large book under her arm. "Yes, well, I'd better get going…I'll finish this in my room," she said as she turned to leave.

"Hey, Granger, are you sure you'll be able to find your way back there from here?" Draco was giving her a wicked smile, but she didn't want to admit to her deplorable sense of direction in front of his mother. She felt her face turning pink.

"She may stay, Draco, as long as she does not prove to be too much of a distraction for you. I want to make sure that I beat you at your full capacity."

Draco's head spun back towards his mother so quickly that Hermione was sure that she had heard his neck crack. As for herself, her mouth must have been hanging open in shock. Narcissa Malfoy openly tolerating her presence was the last thing in the world that Hermione had expected to hear.

"It's your move, Draco. I suggest you make it wisely, because you are not in the most advantageous of positions at the moment." Obviously, Narcissa did not want any attention called to the fact that she had just committed the unthinkable in the Malfoy world: openly tolerating the presence of a muggleborn.

Draco regained his composure and leaned back indolently in his chair and shrugged. "It's all part of the strategy, Mum."

"Strategy? I suppose _losing_ could be considered to be a sort of strategy…"

Mystified, Hermione lowered herself back onto the couch. She couldn't believe the way that Draco was speaking to his elegant mother, but she was firing similar comments right back at him and her eyes were sparkling as if she enjoyed it. It was nearly beyond Hermione's comprehension, but intriguing to watch.

For the next hour, Hermione pretended to be engrossed in her book, but in truth, she was engrossed in the unusual chess match that was going on between Draco and his mother. It was the first time she could remember that a book wasn't holding her undivided attention. But then again, a book couldn't possibly keep up such witty repartee:

"Son, I am almost embarrassed that my progeny would make such a foolhardy move."

"Foolhardy? Did they change the definition of that word to mean _'innovatively brave and ingeniously clever'_?" Draco shot back as he glanced over at Hermione and sent her a quick wink.

"Draco, are we going to have to donate some more textbooks to Hogwarts? Obviously they don't have a decent dictionary at that school."

"Just make sure you keep all the instructional chess texts here, Mum. You're going to need all the help you can get."

"Oh, where is that Tooky with those dratted smelling salts? My poor son is still delirious…"

"Delirious…let me ask the Human Dictionary what that means. Oi, Granger, doesn't delirious mean '_incredibly attractive and incomparably brilliant at chess'_?"

Hermione's eyes grew wide at Draco's sudden inclusion of her into the conversation. Not wanting to ruin the relaxed atmosphere, she tried to appear as nonchalant as possible as she turned a page of the book in her lap an answered in an offhand tone, "No, I believe that delirious means _'impertinent towards superiors and a bit out of touch with reality'_."

Draco made a mock grimace of pain and put a hand to his heart. "_Et tu_, Head Girl?"

Narcissa had a faint smile on her face, the first Hermione had seen since she arrived at the Manor. "Enough stalling, son…it looks like you'll finally have to face the music now…_check_."

The atmosphere in the room changed as Draco looked down at the board, intensely focused. The tension became palpable as he stared at the scattered pieces around the board in silence for several minutes. From what Hermione could see, he was in trouble. Narcissa not only had him in check, but he had just two black pieces on the board to her four. Draco let out a long, slow breath. "Bugger," he finally managed softly.

Narcissa leaned back in her chair and watched him, expectant. She didn't look at all smug, as Hermione would have expected. Instead, Draco's mother looked the tiniest bit regretful, as if she were sorry to see the game finally come to an end.

Draco kept his head down and slowly moved one of his pieces into position. It wasn't the piece Hermione would have picked to move, but then again, wizard's chess was not Hermione's forte. She was able to defeat Harry in it most of the time, but Ron used to trounce her on a regular basis. Distractedly, she wondered who would triumph if Draco ever played Ron, but knew she shouldn't hold her breath waiting for _that_ particular event to ever occur. As she brought her attention back to Draco, she saw that he had his head down and hadn't taken his hand off of his chess piece. A thin line formed between Narcissa Malfoy's platinum eyebrows. "Draco," she said quietly, "have you made your move or not?"

Another moment of silence passed as Draco's hand slowly detached itself from the chess piece. His head was still down, and his white-blonde hair was falling around his face so Hermione was unable to see his facial expression. But she did see his head make a single hesitant nod.

Narcissa sighed. "All right, then," she said, reaching for one of her pieces. "The moment of truth." She almost reluctantly moved her piece into position.

Hermione found it difficult to breathe. She had never been so spellbound by a chess game in her entire life, not even when she herself had been playing. Fascinated, she watched Draco reach out and make another unexpected move. Shaking his hair out of his eyes, he looked up at his mother and a cocksure grin began to spread across his face as he said, "_Check_."

Narcissa looked down at the board in shock. She hadn't seen that coming.


	22. Checkmate

Chapter 22—Checkmate

Narcissa continued to stare down at the chess board in silence. Her expression was unreadable, so Draco bit back the taunting comment he had been about to let loose with. _Hmmm…_he wondered, _have I finally got her, or is this a bluff and set up for an even more crushing defeat?_

"I should get going. I need to get back to my room and do a few things," Hermione stood up and tucked the huge book under her arm. Draco made no move to stop her—it was a typical Granger Act of Consideration, making the sure that the defeat (whoever's defeat it was to be) occurred in private. He sent her a quick wink and she answered with a tiny smile before she left the library. He just hoped she knew where the hell she was going and didn't end up in the Owlery or something like that. When the door shut behind her, he turned back to the chess board and his mother, who had been watching the door shut with a curious expression. When she saw that Draco was watching her, she changed to a more customarily aloof one, and looked down at the board once more.

After several minutes of silence, Narcissa reached out to her king and made the only move she could, the one that he had been expecting. She looked up into his eyes and held them as he reached out and slid his king into position. Never breaking eye contact, he said in almost a whisper, "Checkmate."

The white king took the crown off of his head and threw it down onto the board.

At another time, Draco would have jumped up and celebrated raucously, but for some reason he just wasn't in the mood. Instead, he sat back in his chair, folded his hands over his stomach and let out a slow breath.

"Well done, son."

Draco continued to stare at the board in a contemplative manner.

"Draco," his mother ventured gently. The soft tone was atypical, and it caused him to look up at her with a question in his eyes. She gave him the tiniest smile and glanced over at the vase of paperwhites that Hermione had given her upon her arrival at the Manor. They were still fresh and in perfect bloom. "I don't just mean the chess game, either." And with that, she rose and swept from the room, as elegant and regal as ever.

_Did that just happen?_ Draco remained in his seat for a full minute; unmoving, unable to process just what had occurred. Not only had he won at chess, his mother had just given her approval to Hermione_. I don't bloody believe it,_ he found himself thinking over and over. _I. Don't. Bloody. Believe. It. _

Finally, he managed to rise out of his seat and walk over to the vase of paperwhites. He knew why Hermione had bought them for his mum—she had known that they were Narcissus flowers, the clever girl. It was why his mother had been given them since she was a girl; they were her namesake and therefore, her favorite flower. Noticing that one of the tinier blossoms was beginning to wilt, he pulled it from the vase and tucked it into his pocket. Then he left the library and strolled down the hall. As he crossed the drawing room, he noticed that the shadows that typically cast across the dark purple walls seemed to have fled, but there was one spot in the room that wasn't quite right. Directly under the chandelier, where he remembered watching his Aunt Bellatrix torture Hermione and cut at her throat with a slim knife. Without slowing down his stride, he pulled the paperwhite out of his pocket and dropped the small blossom onto the floor as he passed the exact spot. Not looking back, he continued to the spiral staircase and began to ascend.

KNOCK, KNOCK.

"Open up, bookworm…I know you're in there!"

"Oh, for Merlin's sakes…just a moment!" Hermione's voice muttered from the other side of the door. Draco grinned. He knew that she was marking her place in the book she was reading and hauling herself out of the window seat and over to the door. _Predictable little Gryffindork._

After a few moments, the door swung open and Hermione looked up at him expectantly. "Did you win?" she asked.

_What in the hell is she talking about…oh, chess…right…_ He hadn't even thought about it since he left the library. She blinked up at him. "Well?"

Draco didn't even bother to answer; instead he took her face in both of his hands and kissed her with all of the pent up emotion that he felt. He could feel her start to sag against him as her legs went weak, and he used the opportunity to push her back into the room and towards the bed. Without missing a beat they toppled to the bed, kissing furiously the entire time.

Hermione didn't even bother to put up any resistance; she felt just as hungry for him as he was for her, and returned every kiss with a passion that matched his own. "Draco," she managed to sigh as he began to trail kisses down her throat. The only coherent thought that managed to cross his mind was how he would blast that ruddy house elf to smithereens if she even tried to interrupt _this_.

As Hermione's hands tangled in his hair, his lips continued their trail down her throat until they reached her collar. He began to snake his hands up to one of the buttons, but was startled by a low whistle from behind.

"Woo…free show."

He whipped his head up to see Blaise Zabini grinning at them from the doorway. Hermione let out a squeal as she squirmed away from him _(buggeration, blast and bollocks), _and her sudden movement caused him to roll off of the bed and onto the floor. "Merlin's balls!" he shouted upon impact.

"Well, well…perhaps I've been wrong all this time, playing for a Ravenclaw," Blaise drawled, "looks like Gryffindors are _far_ more friendly, eh, Malfoy?"

Hermione's face had turned a bright scarlet to rival the cover of the satin duvet on the bed. Draco struggled to get up and search for his wand at the same time, unsuccessful at accomplishing either task. "Dammit, Zabini, I'm still completely brassed off at that spectacle you pulled at lunch!" he exploded as he hunted for his wand. Unable to find it, he grabbed a pillow that had fallen off of the bed with him and whipped it at Blaise's face as hard as he could manage. Blaise responded with a muffled grunt.

"All right, Malfoy, I know that I should have kept my mouth shut," he said, lowering the pillow and rubbing his nose in response to the blow. "I was just coming by to make amends, okay? I had a feeling that you might be visiting Granger's room, and right I was, eh, Granger?" he added, winking at Hermione. If possible, she turned even redder and looked away, embarrassed.

Draco grabbed at the edge of the bedpost and finally pulled himself up. "And just what kind of amends could you _possibly_ make after that bloody mess, you prat?" he griped, turning to sit on the bed next to a crimson Hermione.

Blaise leaned in to Draco and muttered in his ear, "Your father just came back from that pureblood club off of Knockturn Alley…seems he's been drinking, so you'd better stay out of his way. If you can just avoid him tonight and leave tomorrow morning, well…"

Most of the heat of Draco's anger cooled at Blaise's thoughtfulness to not give the news loud enough for Hermione to hear. "Right," Draco said under his breath, "where is he now?"

"In his study. Last I heard, he was yelling for the house elf to bring him something to eat. Guess he won't be having dinner in the hall."

Draco nodded and turned to Hermione, who was now hugging a rather large pillow to her chest, looking like she was wishing it was a portkey. "Oi, Granger, you ready for dinner? This meal should be a _lot_ less eventful, I can guarantee," he smirked, extending a hand.

She smiled back shyly and took his hand.

As Draco had predicted, dinner went much more smoothly than any other meal that they had had at the Manor thus far. Of course, it was mainly due to the fact that the only ones who had shown up at the grand dining hall were himself, Hermione and Zabini. Draco was disappointed that his mother hadn't made an appearance, but he could tell it was a tactical move intended to draw the attention away from Lucius Malfoy. His mother would die before allowing the family to come off in a less than favorable light, and at the moment she was probably making certain that his father was being kept sequestered in his study so that no one would know of the state that he was in.

As it turned out, dinner was an entertaining affair—Hermione managed to get over her embarrassment at being caught in such a compromising position, and began to respond to Blaise's snarky taunts in kind.

"So, Granger, have you got any _friendly_ fellow Gryffindors that you can introduce me to?"

"What's the matter, Blaise, Morag's too smart to fall for your lines? I'm not surprised."

At that, Draco snorted into his custard pudding. _Get him, Granger, get him_.

"Ah, she's just unable to conceive of her good fortune, is all…"

"More likely she's unable to conceive of such _misfortune."_

And on and on it went. After dessert, Zabini bade them good night and sauntered off in the direction of his rooms, leaving Draco and Hermione with Tooky, who seemed determined not to leave them alone. After some unusual maneuvering (Tooky wouldn't even allow them to leave for Hermione's room together), Draco finally blew up at the little elf. "Buggeration, what is it with you, Tooky? I'm ordering you to step out of the way!"

Tooky stepped to the side, but her expression was as resolute as ever. "Master Draco," she squeaked, "I is under orders to make sure that Miss Hermione is apparated back to her room!"

"And why is that?" he demanded.

Tooky took a step forward and said in a pointed tone, "So's she doesn't accidentally go by any other rooms that shouldn'ts be seen."

_Ah, right, the study. _Draco grimaced. "Fine," he sighed. "Take her back and I'll go to my rooms through the north wing." It was the most roundabout route, far out of the way of his father's study. _I'll just use the secret passageway to get back to Granger's room later on._

"Very good, Master Draco!" Tooky squeaked as she took Hermione's hand and disapparated with a CRACK.

About an hour later, Draco was crawling through one of the secret passageways in the walls to get to Hermione's room. He had to crawl because the small, hidden walkways in the walls were designed for house elves, not fully grown male Malfoys. They enabled the elves to pass from room to room in order to perform their duties, yet be seen as little as possible. It also cut down on the amount of apparating and the loud CRACKS that went along with them. As he crawled along, he could see small strips of light coming in from the occasional door to a room, but they were few and far between being as the majority of rooms at the Manor were not in use. The house really was quite overwhelming for a family of three. _Bugger, my back is killing me. How much further is it on this blasted path? I'm not quite sure..._ Luckily, there was a bright strip of light up ahead, coming from under one of the small doors. _Either it's Hermione's room, or I can at least stop there and figure out where the hell I am so I can see how much farther I have to go. _He crawled up to the doorway and pushed it open the slightest crack.

"Lucius, I _won't_ allow Tooky to send up any more wine," his mother was saying in a firm voice.

_Salazar's sack_. It was his father's study, and both of his parents were in it. He could only see part of his father's face from the leather armchair that he was sprawled in, but what was visible was flushed with drink. "This is _my_ house and I should be allowed to do as I please," Lucius groused as he raked his long, white blonde hair out of his face. Draco realized that he had gotten that gesture from his father—he also had a habit of raking his hand through his hair when he was stirred up about something.

His mother took a step forward and into Draco's view. Her long, light blonde hair was hanging loose—quite a rarity—and falling in soft waves about her face, shoulders and down her back. It leant her a look of vulnerability, but was in direct contrast to the determination in her voice. "Not when what you please is no longer good for this family." Draco felt his mouth fall open. He had never seen his mother stand up to his father so much in his entire life as she had over the past two days.

His father wasn't used to it, either. Slamming his empty wine goblet down on a nearby table, he stood up. "Narcissa, have you lost your mind? Our son has brought a _mudblood_ into our house!"

She took another step forward and was illuminated from behind by the fireplace. "Yes, he has," she stated simply. "And for the first time ever, he has stood up to you about it. All of his life, Draco has submitted to your wishes and sought your approval, but for once he has refused to back down to you and became a man. He was more of a Malfoy today than he has ever been, Lucius."

Lucius looked away from her and stared sullenly at the fire. Draco waited for the inevitable tirade against muggleborns, but it never came. Narcissa took yet another step forward and Lucius sank back down into the leather armchair. "I cannot accept this," he muttered, his tone bitter.

"You will have to learn to," his mother said, lowering herself onto the arm of the chair. Her long, blonde hair had fallen over her shoulder and commingled with his father's white blonde locks. "He is a Malfoy, and he, like I, would stop at nothing for the one he loves." She laid a hand on his shoulder. "My darling, won't you bend just the tiniest bit?" she said in a voice so soft Draco that could barely hear it from his hidden vantage point.

Draco found himself unable to breathe as his mother waited for a reaction from his father. For a few moments there was nothing. Then slowly, excruciatingly, Lucius Malfoy's hand crept up to Narcissa's throat.

Draco put his hand to the door, ready to burst into the room if his father dared harm his mother.

But Lucius' hand had wound in his mother's hair. "Cissa," he murmured thickly as he pulled her head down to his for a passionate kiss.

_Bloody hell, there are some things a person should NOT have to see,_ Draco thought in distaste, turning his face away. Shutting the door fully closed, he let out a deep breath and turned to crawl back to his own rooms.


	23. Closure

Chapter 23—Closure

The following morning, Hermione woke up early and padded about her room, gathering her things together for her trip back to Hogwarts. Glancing about the lavish quarters, she realized that it had been the fanciest accommodations she had ever been privileged to stay in. However, she had never been able to fully appreciate the luxuries of the room being as her nerves had been on edge the entire duration of her stay. She was finally beginning to understand why Draco was the way he was at times—emotionally distant, defensive, cynical, and proud. But all that considered, this weekend he had managed to do the thing that was the most difficult for him to do, and that was to stand up to his intimidating, obstinately pureblooded father. And Draco's mother had spoken civilly to her on more than one occasion. Hermione supposed that that was more than she could have hoped for—the chances of acceptance from Lucius Malfoy had never really been a possibility. But even so, Hermione was a little saddened by the fact that the man had been unable to bend; not just for her sake, but also for the sake of Draco, Tooky, and Narcissa Malfoy. Hermione could only imagine how difficult it would be to live with Lucius Malfoy once she, Draco and Blaise left the Manor to return to Hogwarts.

_Only one more meal to get through_, Hermione thought as she waved her wand and her belongings flew from all directions to arrange themselves neatly into her bag. _Breakfast. I'm sure Draco's not even up yet. I suppose I could wake him up if I could only figure out how to get to his room…._

KNOCK, KNOCK.

_Who could that be?_ Hermione wondered.

"Miss Hermione? I broughts you some fresh cider and some warm towels!" A voice squeaked through the door. Hermione rushed over and opened the door to find a tray with a huge steaming mug of cider and a stack of heated towels greeting her. Grabbing the towels, she revealed Tooky, who had been balancing them on her head so that she could support the tray of cider. "Tooky, you work too hard!" Hermione declared as she carried the towels into the room, followed by the tiny elf. "Do you have time to sit down and share this cup of cider with me?" she asked, as she set the towels down onto her bed.

Silence. Befuddled, Hermione turned around to repeat the question, thinking that perhaps the house elf hadn't heard her but instead realized that Tooky's eyes were filling with tears. "Tooky!" Hermione exclaimed, shocked. "What is it? Did I say something wrong?"

"No, no, Miss Hermione…it's just that…" the elf took out a rag from her makeshift back pocket and blew her nose with a loud _honk_. "It's just that…I've never seens a witch as nice as you, Miss Hermione! I never knews that witches or wizards could be so nice! Even Master Draco is tryings to be nicer to me!"

Hermione's heart went out to the distressed little elf. "Tooky, why _wouldn't_ I be nice to you? If it weren't for you, I don't think that I would have made it through this weekend! And I'm glad to have made a new friend," she added, handing the house elf a fresh tissue.

"Miss Hermione," Tooky said tearfully, "you is the first friend I has ever had!" She honked into the tissue once more, then looked up at Hermione. "Is there anythings else I can do for you? Can I gets you anything?" she asked enthusiastically.

Hermione smiled back at her. "Oh, no, Tooky, I don't need…wait a minute…would you mind showing me to Draco's rooms? That is, if you don't mind—"

"Anything for you, Miss Hermione! I'll be happy to shows you!"

"Wonderful. As soon as I finish this cider," Hermione said with a grin.

Moments later, Hermione found herself in front of the large double doors to Draco's room. "How late does he usually sleep?" she asked Tooky, still looking at the oaken carved door.

"Until someone wakes him up, Miss Hermione."

Hermione put her hands on her hips. "Spoiled Slytherin," she said in a tart voice. "Something should be done about this."

Tooky extended a hand and snapped her fingers at the massive door, causing it to creak open. She then turned to Hermione and gave her a sly look. "I has to go get the dining hall ready for breakfast, Miss Hermione. Do you minds dealing with Master Draco all by yourself?" And before Hermione could even answer, the house elf disapparated with a CRACK.

Hermione would have thought that between the creaking of the door and the loud sound of the disapparation, Draco would have been roused awake, but no such luck. From what she could see, he was still sprawled out in his huge bed, snoring gently. _Great Merlin, this Slytherin can be one lazy wizard,_ she thought as she tossed her head and strode into the bedroom.

Reaching the bed, all Hermione could see was a pile of pillows and rumpled blankets. If not for the sound of the soft snoring and the lock of silky platinum hair barely visible over the edge of the coverlet, Hermione would have thought that the bed was just an empty, disheveled mess. She bent down close to where she assumed his ear would be. "Draco," she ventured in a soft voice. Then a bit louder, "Draco?"

No response.

_This is ridiculous! _Impatiently, she snapped, "Draco!" and was answered by a hand snaking out of the mass of covers and pulling her down onto the bed.

All of a sudden, his hands were everywhere, relentlessly tickling. "All right, Head Girl, nobody messes with my sleep, got that? _Nobody!"_ She squealed with laughter as he dug his fingers into her ribs. "You give?" he demanded.

"No! No…" she gasped. He tickled harder and she was finally able to gasp, "Yes! Yes, I give!"

"Good," he drawled, satisfied as his hands relaxed. "Stubborn Gryffindor. You were beginning to make me tired," he added with a smirk.

"_I_ was beginning to make _you_ tired? Draco Malfoy, you are such a…" she stopped as the hands that had been digging into her ribs turned into gentle caresses.

"A what, Granger?" he asked as he propped himself up on his other forearm and looked down at her with a wicked grin. "Tell me," he punctuated with a wandering hand.

"Draco," Hermione cautioned him, "you can't do that!"

"Why the hell not, Granger? For once, that blasted bloodhound of a house elf isn't here!"

"But…but what if someone were to see…"

"Who's going to come by? Everybody knows not to bother me in the morning. _Almost_ everybody, that is," he added, giving her a pointed look.

"You spend far too much time sleeping, Draco."

"You might have a point there, Gryffindor. Why sleep when I could be doing other things?" he smirked as his hand began to wander again.

"Draco!" Hermione said in a panicked tone.

Draco's hand stilled with a sigh. For a moment he looked away; then looked back down at her. His white-blonde hair fell forward around his face and the frustration was evident in his silvery blue eyes as he murmured, "Baby, don't you _want_ to stay here with me? Just for a little while?"

Hermione stared up at him, mesmerized by the combination of his elegantly mussed appearance and his endearing candor. _Oh my. Well, at least he's wearing a t-shirt with his pajama bottoms today…although the shirt is quite fitted and doesn't really hide all that much…_ Somehow, Draco always managed to turn her mind to mush. "Well…" she managed to get out just as he began to lower his mouth to hers.

A few moments later, Draco and Hermione made their way down to the dining hall—Hermione was blushing madly and Draco had a smug grin on his face. "I am not speaking to you," she declared.

"Aw, come on, Granger…it's not like anything _major_ happened."

_Not for your lack of trying._

"And I know for a fact that you were enjoying yourself."

_Arrogant toerag._

"I rather like the new boundary we've agreed on…I look forward to approaching the border once again sometime soon…"

"Draco Malfoy, you are the most incorrigible, conceited—"

"I thought you weren't speaking to me," he said, grinning saucily. Hermione glared back at him.

Breakfast was a quiet, uneventful affair. Again, it was just Hermione, Draco and Blaise. Draco, in a rare good mood in the morning (_sneaky Slytherin,_ Hermione thought) actually asked Tooky a direct question, inquiring as to the whereabouts of his parents whose presence was again, conspicuously absent. When Tooky informed him that the both of them had gone to sleep late and therefore opted to take their breakfast in their rooms, this news made Draco look as if he were going to be ill. _I wonder what_ that's _all about,_ Hermione thought to herself.

Blaise Zabini was not much of a morning person, either. Normally, he would have had a go at Draco for that, but at an earlier hour Blaise was far too occupied with piling his plate with sausage and eggs. Hermione decided that perhaps Blaise had the right idea, and put her focus down onto her plate where it belonged.

When the meal was just about finished, a sardonic drawl broke into the silence. "Well, little Gryffindor, you survived the weekend. Think you'll be coming back to the Manor anytime soon?" Now that Blaise had eaten, he was beginning to show signs of life.

Hermione looked over at Blaise, who was giving her an amused smirk. "Well," she admitted, "if they invite me again, yes. Perhaps Mr. Malfoy will learn to tolerate me better with practice."

Draco dropped his spoon and slapped his hand to his head with an exasperated sigh.

About an hour later, Draco and Hermione headed down towards the drawing room with their weekend bags in tow. Tooky met them on the way and insisted on taking their bags the rest of the way. "I is sure going to miss you, Miss Hermione! And you too, Master Draco!" the little house elf was gushing.

"Yeah, well, I'm sure as hell not going to miss being tracked down constantly by the bloody anti-snog squad," Draco muttered under his breath. Hermione elbowed him in the ribs.

When they reached the entrance, Blaise was already waiting for them, leaning up against a nearby wall with his hands in his pockets. "So are we disapparating or going by coach?" he asked Draco.

"The coach is waiting for you just outside." Narcissa Malfoy was descending the spiral staircase, looking her usual elegant self in a light gray silk robe. Her long, flaxen hair, however, was unbound with only a light clasp at the nape of her neck. She reached the bottom of the stairs and gave a brief nod to Blaise. "Be sure to give my regards to your mother."

"I will, Mrs. Malfoy," Blaise rejoined with a cheeky grin. "Thanks for a memorable weekend."

Narcissa pressed her lips together and turned to Draco. Not wanting to intrude on what should be a private moment between the two of them, Hermione took a step back from Draco and looked away. She glanced back into the grand drawing room, which somehow seemed a bit brighter than what she had remembered—the dark purple walls had lost their foreboding edge. Before turning away from the view, a small object lying on the floor caught her eye. Curiously, she took a few steps towards it and bent down to get a better look.

It was a tiny paperwhite blossom. _What in the world is it doing here? _Hermione wondered. Then she recognized where she was standing. The blossom was almost in the very center of the large "M" that had been worked in marble into the gleaming floors. This was the exact spot where Bellatrix Lestrange had tortured her for information about the horcruxes, and had nearly slit Hermione's throat. Hermione closed her eyes at the memory and let out a shaky breath. Then she reached down, picked up the petite blossom and dropped it into her pocket. She had a good idea about who had put it there, and found herself smiling as she turned back to Draco who was just stepping out of his mother's embrace.

Narcissa faced Hermione with a reserved expression. "Miss Granger," she said with another nod, "thank you for visiting the Manor." Hermione thought that this must be what it was like to be addressed by the Queen. Narcissa Malfoy was truly the most regal woman she had ever met.

"Where is father?" Draco asked, looking around. Blaise had already pulled open the front door.

"He should be down presently…Lucius?" Narcissa called out, looking up.

"I am here." After a moment, Lucius Malfoy appeared at the top of the spiral staircase. He also looked less severe today; perhaps it was due to the fact that his long, white-blonde hair was hanging loose instead of being pulled back in its usual harsh club.

"Your son is leaving for school. Come down and say goodbye to him." Although her voice was soft, the command in it was unmistakable.

Lucius' eyes flashed for a moment, then cooled to their usual steel grey and he began to descend the staircase. As he grew nearer and nearer, Hermione felt her pound. _I don't know if I can take another confrontation right now,_ she thought. Luckily, Lucius only seemed to want to address his son. He ignored Blaise, sent Hermione a cursory glance and then turned to Draco. "So you are leaving," he stated unnecessarily.

Draco stared back at him, wary—he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. "That I am."

Lucius eyes darted to Narcissa, who gave him a pointed look, then turned back to Draco as he let out a slow breath. "Yes, well…travel safe, my son."

Draco nodded and said nothing, still waiting for the confrontation. However, it seemed that it wasn't to be. Everyone was standing around, blinking at each other in silence.

Just then, an owl sailed through the door and dropped a package into Lucius Malfoy's hands. This broke the spell of silence and Draco turned to Hermione and whispered naughtily into her ear, "Looking forward to that carriage ride back to Hogwarts if you know what I mean, Granger."

"Draco Malfoy, we're not going to be alone in that carriage, you know!" Hermione whispered back. "Blaise is riding back with us."

"That's not my problem," he said under his breath.

"Are you expecting a package, dear?" Narcissa was asking Lucius. "Who is it from?"

"No idea," Lucius grumbled as he tore away the wrapping. "It's addressed in an odd fashion…just 'Malfoy' scrawled across the top…"

With a start, Hermione looked up in horror to see that the wrapping on the package was a bright orange and magenta color, and she could just make out a big 'W' on the corner of the paper as Lucius Malfoy began to lift the lid of the box. "No, wait!" Hermione called out. "Mr. Malfoy, don't open that!"

Lucius ignored her and lifted the lid. A large BOOM followed and a small cloud of gray smoke immediately surrounded his head. From behind her, Hermione heard Blaise Zabini snort.

"Draco," Narcissa said in a cautious tone, "I think you and your friends had better get going."

"What in the name of Salazar is this?" Lucius Malfoy's head was still surrounded by the thick cloud of smoke. _Merlin only knows what that cloud of smoke is doing to his head…George Weasley is just too darned creative for his own good, _Hermione thought in dismay.

Narcissa looked back at Lucius, who was now waving his hands and cursing madly. "Merlin's moldy knickers! I can't see a thing!"

Narcissa bit her lip and nodded her head at Draco._ "Now," _she urged.


	24. Conclusion

**Well, this is it—the final chapter of _Hogwarts Respite!_ Please read my author's note after the conclusion for information on my future writing projects. I've loved every review I've ever received from all of you and really appreciate you sticking out this long journey with me. Thanks so much for reading, and I hope the following was worth the wait...**

Chapter 24—Conclusion

Sunday evening, Draco was once again installed in his usual spot at the far end of the Slytherin table in the Hogwarts Great Hall. However, there was one difference in the customary seating arrangement. Normally, he had plenty of space—the other Slytherins had a silent agreement with him to keep their distance (as long as each pretended that the other didn't exist, everything ran smoothly), but when Blaise Zabini entered the Great Hall that evening he had sauntered over to Draco's end of the table and plopped down into a seat directly across from him. Draco, annoyed, scowled up at Blaise and folded his arms over the Quidditch magazine that he was reading. "What in the bloody hell do you want, Zabini?" he demanded.

"Nothing in particular, Malfoy…just saying hello," he drawled with a cheeky grin.

"Yeah, well, hello…and goodbye," Draco made a shooing gesture at Zabini with one hand as he turned a page of his Quidditch magazine with the other.

"Hello, Blaise, are you joining us for dinner?" Hermione said as she sat down next to Draco with a smile. _Bollockov...did she just invite him to sit here?_

Just then, Ginny Weasley slid into a seat across from them, a space or two away from Zabini. "Evening, Hermione…_Malfoy_…" The Weaselette spat out his name as if it were spoiled food, causing Draco to sneer at her in derision. Then she noticed Blaise. "Zabini, what are _you_ doing here?" Zabini was lounging in his seat with no intention of moving anytime soon.

_Fan-bloody-tastic, _Draco thought irritably._ Why don't we just invite that ridiculous oaf Hagrid to sit here, too? Then he could bring over some preposterous creature that shoots fire out of its arse and we can all chat about how swell it is over crumpets and tea._

"I just thought I'd see how the other half of this table lives," Zabini answered as he jiggled his eyebrows at Hermione and Draco.

"Well, you can't," Draco growled at him as he draped an arm about Hermione's shoulders, "because we're going to be discussing…er…secret Quidditch strategies. _Isn't_ _that right, Weasley?"_ he said pointedly to Ginny. _Come on, Weaselette, back me up here, for Salazar's sakes._

Ginny blinked back at him in mock innocence. "I don't know anything about that, Malfoy. I try to not to talk shop at the table." She pulled an orange slice from the platter in front of her and popped it into her mouth with an impish grin. _Bloody Weaselette. I've got a good mind to turn that blasted silver stag on the back of my Quidditch robes into a slug for the next team practice._

"So Hermione, you managed to get back to Hogwarts in one piece," Ginny was saying to Hermione. "Harry and Ron weren't too happy that you had gone to the Manor, but I told them you were more than capable of handling yourself."

"Good," Hermione replied as she leaned in to Draco's embrace. "I know they mean well, but they should know by now that I can take care of myself."

_I wouldn't mind taking care of you for a while myself, Granger…I know _exactly_ where I'd like to start, too._ Draco's mind wandered to the new-boundary-reaching incident of that morning, and with a leer he began to plot how to get Hermione back to that point once again in the near future.

"She did just fine, I must admit. It was quite a diverting weekend…so many revealing sights and scenes…" Zabini drawled with a wicked grin, causing Hermione to turn pink.

Then she tilted her chin up at him and rejoined, "Blaise, just what are you doing hiding out over here with us, anyway? Are you still too afraid to approach Morag's end of the Ravenclaw table?"

_Damn, I love this girl._

The Weaselette jumped on Hermione's remark like a hippogriff on a dead ferret. "Oh, it's Morag MacDougal, is it? So, do you loooove her, Blaise?" Zabini began to turn even redder than Hermione.

_Good…direct your venom at that prat all you want, Weaselette. Maybe I'll only turn that stag on my robes into a sheep instead. _Draco turned to brush Hermione's hair away from her ear in order to plant a kiss on her neck when Owl Post soared through the Great Hall and dropped a package onto the table in front of him.

"MacDougal? I hardly even know the girl," Blaise was protesting as he tried to act nonchalant. Nevertheless, his sudden inability to make eye contact with anyone was giving him away.

"Ooh, package!" Ginny sang, reaching for the package in front of Draco.

He stopped her by sticking his fork in her hand. "Hands off my stuff, Weasley! I know better than to let you anywhere near anything of mine after you practically left the country with my goddamn Quidditch magazine." Sliding the package in front of him, he held it up for inspection.

"It's from the Manor," Hermione breathed as she looked at him in surprise. "But so soon? Why?"

Shrugging, Draco tore the wrapping off of the package. Underneath the wrapping on the top of the box was a letter sealed with a green circle of wax embossed with a large, ornate "M". Breaking open the seal, he pulled out a parchment inscribed with his mother's fine hand. Pressing the parchment out flat on the table, it read:

_Draco Darling,_

_In the confusion of your departure, I realized that there was something that I had forgotten to give you before you left. You will find it in the box attached to this letter. _

_I also wanted to let you know that your father's head-fog is clearing up nicely. By tomorrow, he should be able to leave the house once more. At the moment, he only has a cap of smoke encircling the top of his head, so he is finally able to see. However, we would appreciate it if you would advise your friends to not send any more packages to the Manor in the future. _

_"Friends?"_ Draco grumbled under his breath. "That holehead clot Weasley's about as much my friend as that bloody interfering anti-snog house elf is…"

"Now Draco, be nice," Hermione admonished him. Draco gave her an incredulous look. _Nice? ME? Not on your life, Head Girl._ Hermione rolled her eyes. "All right," she admitted, "I realized that I just asked the impossible. Read on," she urged, changing the subject. "There's more."

_Please be sure to reserve plans for a more proper length of stay at Christmas break. Time seemed to pass by too quickly this weekend._

_Mum_

Draco blinked at the last sentence. It was quite a personal remark—not at all like his mother's usual style in her letters. Typically, a letter from his mother was chock full of "uphold the family honor sentiments", but they were absent in this note.

How lovely," Hermione remarked with a smile as she read over his shoulder. Draco smirked at her blatant nosiness. "Open the box," Hermione urged him.

Looking back down at the box, he hesitated. _What could be so damn important that my mother wanted me to have before I left? _Finally, he pulled the lid off of the box. On the top of the inner contents of the box was another folded note that he tossed aside to reveal the full ivory and jet antique Malfoy wizard's chess set in all of its glory. "Merlin's bloody blue balls," he muttered softly, as the finely carved pieces gleamed back at him in all their majestic glory. Hermione, who also realized the significance of the gift, let out a small gasp.

"Nice chess set, Malfoy. So, shall I trounce you in a game after dinner?" Zabini drawled as he took a sip of pumpkin juice.

"In your dreams, Zabini. My house elf could probably beat you in a game blindfolded," Draco shot back as he picked up the white queen for closer inspection.

"Draco…I think you should take a look at this note." Hermione had unfolded the note and she laid it down in front of him. Still holding the queen, Draco leaned forward and read:

_You have earned this set, my son. Perhaps it is time that you taught Miss Granger to play a decent game, although your father and I do expect you to bring it with you when the two of you come to visit the Manor during Christmas break. To ease your concern, I will not expect you to relinquish the set to me when I defeat you in our next game._

Draco grinned at his mother's subtle chess taunt. _Wonder what I'll get when I defeat her for the _third_ time…wait a minute…_ His eyes shot back up to the note's previous sentence: _YOUR FATHER AND I do expect you to bring it with you when THE TWO OF YOU come to visit the Manor during Christmas break._ He looked up at Hermione in disbelief. She was smiling back at him and looking quite pleased with herself.

"We'll have a bit of scheduling to coordinate over the holidays, Draco," she said breezily as she picked up a spoon and dipped it in her soup. "I expect that we'll be visiting my parents as well over holiday break…do you think we should go to the Manor before or after Christmas?"

"What in buggeration are you talking about, Granger?"

"Did you say Malfoy at _your_ parents' house, Hermione? Could you invite me over for Christmas so that I could witness that first-hand?" Ginny asked in excitement.

"Malfoy with the muggles…I'd pay money to see that!" Zabini snorted.

"Now hold on just one minute, Head Girl…"

"Oh, and I could knit Tooky a lovely cap and scarf set for Christmas!"

"The hell you will!"

"Yeah, little Gryffindor, why don't you knit her a nice, warm pair of socks, too?"

"Who's Tooky, Hermione?"

"Oh, she's this wonderful little house elf of the Malfoys, and she was so helpful to me over the weekend…"

_I don't bloody believe this. Merlin save me from interfering house elves, Malfoys and muggles._ Deciding it was best to dwell on the situation as little as possible, Draco grabbed Hermione and pulled her in for the snog of her life.

THE END

**"The End" has to be one of the most satisfying yet saddest phrases in the English language. Ah, well...all things have to come to an end eventually. As for the Hogwarts series, I have some more stories written that are series compliant, but this is indeed the end of the novella trilogy (I had to sacrifice writing such long stories when I started working on my original novel). I may or may not be posting the rest of my Hogwarts stories here—still undecided (I am leery to do so because my best friend has had some problems with plagiarism concerning her shorter stories). Right now I do have them all posted on my private writer's forum along with a great deal of the original writing projects I'm working on. I'd _love _some reviewers for those other stories and most especially for my original material, so if anyone is interested please PM me for membership to the forum. I would be thrilled to have you aboard!**

**And thanks again for reading my stories—I consider it a great privilege to have had the opportunity to entertain you!**

**Purpleheart72**

**xo**


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